


Power

by LesleyAnnRose



Category: The Adventures of Sinbad (Canada TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Feelings, Heavy Angst, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesleyAnnRose/pseuds/LesleyAnnRose
Summary: What if Rumina had managed to obtain the Obelisk of Isis at the end of Double Trouble?   When black magic spreads unchecked, what will the shattered Nomad crew do to stand against such darkness?  Especially when Rumina stakes her claim on Sinbad's mind, body and soul?
Relationships: Maeve/Sinbad (Adventures of Sinbad), Rumina/Sinbad
Comments: 160
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow Adventures of Sinbad fans 😊 I don’t normally write fan fiction, preferring instead to read the work of other wonderfully talented people, but I was recently inspired to try something different. 
> 
> This story begins near the ending of Double Trouble, when Sinbad comes to rescue his crew from Omar of Basra’s dungeon. I tried to stay as close to canon as possible, but I did change one aspect of the episode to make this story fit in better. Instead of Maeve joining Sinbad to rescue the crew from the dungeons, I adopted the premise that she went back to training with Cairpra after she restored Sinbad to his original size, both of them assuming Rumina was no longer an issue after her bondage shaming lol. Hope you don’t mind… I wanted Maeve to be able to swoop in for an attempted rescue, and make them both regret not sticking together (insert evil laughter). 
> 
> I also hope you don’t mind that I’m a Rumina/Sinbad/Maeve love triangle shipper. I like angsty stuff, villains and vulnerable heroes, so expect this to be a bit dark and whumpy... ahhh, toxic love lol. As you can probably guess, I don’t own the Adventures of Sinbad and am just trying to have some naughty fun with words 😉

“That wasn’t me,” Sinbad implored to his brother, who seemed ready to give him a bigger beating than the guards had just unsuccessfully tried to dole out. “Who was it then,” Doubar seethed. “Are you telling me that you conveniently have an ‘evil’ doppelganger running around, trying to start a war between the most powerful rulers from here to Cyprus?!” Before Sinbad had a chance to respond to his rightfully pissed brother, a voice that sent a chill down his spine answered for him. “No, just an ‘evil’ sorceress, coming to collect a debt that is due.” 

“Rumina.” Sinbad confirmed with more than a little irritation in his voice. This witch was seriously becoming an unpleasant regularity in his life, much like a pulled muscle that couldn’t be massaged out. He usually tried not to upset her too much, as he feared the sort of power she might be willing to unleash on them all if he didn’t tread lightly enough. However, given the events of the past two days, and the havoc she caused while willfully destroying his reputation (not mention leaving him feeling more than a bit emasculated) his patience with her was less than ideal. “For God’s sake woman,” he spat, “don’t you think you’ve had enough fun for one day…” but before he got to finish his tirade, a spark of crimson power flew from Rumina’s hand straight into his chest. He immediately fell back, clutching at his ribcage. His shock and the excruciating pain rendered him speechless. His lungs felt ready to implode, his breath ragged, his vision beginning to blur as he stumbled backwards. 

“Sinbad!” Doubar shouted, and moved to catch him before he collapsed onto the hard cement of the dungeon. “Oh, does that hurt my love?” Rumina preened, like a cat who got the cream. “It’s almost as though you’re hurting as much as I am, given that the love of my life is constantly trying to get away from me. It’s so very painful you know. Enough to take your breath away.” 

“What game are you playing at now, you filthy witch?” Doubar raged at her, while Sinbad struggled to remain conscious. “It’s no game you insolent oaf,” she retorted. “I’ve come to collect my due from your precious baby brother.” Sinbad’s head spun, but he managed to rasp out, “What due Rumina? I owe you nothing.” Even as the words left his mouth though, he knew that wasn’t true. He killed her father, leaving her alone and vulnerable. He foiled her plans to obtain power and establish her rule more than once. He spurned her love over and over, and even used it against her when he deemed it necessary. All this he did in the name of good, and yet, he understands the sting this must exact upon her. He knows what she believes is her due: his suffering, his surrender. And as the blackness overcame him, he wondered if she just might get it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wake up sailor, I’m not finished explaining your situation to you yet,” he heard Rumina snap, as the pressure on his chest lightened just enough for him to draw in another tortured breath. “You and your beloved crew had better listen and listen well. From now on, I’m calling the shots. Your ship will leave Basra tonight and continue on with whatever fool’s quest you have in mind. Finding that pitiful excuse for a sorcerer, Dim and Dumb was it?” she sneered, reveling at the daggers Sinbad shot her with his eyes. “All of you that is, with the exception of you, my love,” she intoned sweetly to him, with a sultry gaze that belied her menacing intent. 

“I believe that you have gone truly mad my dear,” stated Firouz in an incredulous fluster. “You must know that there’s no way we would ever consider leaving Sinbad, our leader, our captain, our brother behind, especially not with his greatest known enemy!”  
“Never mind Firouz,” interrupted Sinbad, finding that his exasperation at the situation returned him his voice, if only for the time being. “You know that this is all pointless Rumina. You’ve already abducted me or attempted to do so several times. One of those times was just last night,” he laughed out mirthlessly. “It never seems to work out for you. Besides, did you forget that both Maeve and Cairpra are a stone’s throw away? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to teach you another lesson about the power of white magic.” 

The glint in Rumina’s eye as she smiled a smile that could only mean she was ready to savour a victory, froze the very blood in Sinbad’s veins. “Well,” she replied far too calmly, “I think they’ll have a difficult time with that now that I have this.” Her smile grew even wider, as she lifted up her hand to reveal the Obelisk of Isis, floating directly above it. Sinbad found himself unable to breathe for an entirely different reason. “How..” he stuttered out incredulously, unable to believe the sight before him. “I told that meddlesome old hag that she wouldn’t stop me, and I intended to keep my promise,” Rumina retorted angrily. “While your so called champions of white magic busied themselves with returning you to big boy size, I took the liberty of collecting my prize from the treasure room. Don’t you remember? You did give me the key after all,” she teased, as she dangled the talisman gifted to Sinbad from Omar of Basra.

“So it turns out you were right after all my beautiful sailor. It really was time to stop playing games. I got right down to business, unfortunately for you all.” She laughed with a cloying amount of glee that made Sinbad’s stomach turn. For the first time in a very long time, he actually wished he could be unconscious rather than face the reality of the situation before him.

“So this is the end then. You’re actually going to take my life. Get the revenge you want for all that I’ve put you through,” Sinbad affirmed sadly. It’s a cruel twist of fate he realized, that by acting as the hero, denying her the power and pleasure she so desperately desired, he doomed himself. Of course he would be her number one target. He reshaped her life however unintentionally while championing the cause of good. So now she sought to reshape his in turn. 

Rumina laughed her characteristic chuckle, which grated upon his nerves even more so than usual, given the bleakness of his situation. “This is quite possibly the end of your life sailor, but that won’t be for you to decide,” she responded playfully. “That honour will go to your beloved crew.” She beamed towards Doubar, Firouz and Rongar with her most enigmatic smile, as they stared at her in disbelief. Doubar was the first to respond, having lost his patience at seeing his little brother being teased while teetering on the edge of consciousness. “What kind of stupid proposition is that you foul witch,” he spat out, looking ready to strangle her, magic be damned. “We’ll choose to save Sinbad’s life no matter what cost you have in mind.” “He is correct in his judgement, point of fact,” chirped Firouz. “We would all happily lay down our lives for our Captain, or meet whatever demands you have in mind, as he would do so, and has done so for us and others so readily.” 

Sinbad, while flattered beyond words at the love of his crew, his family, was quick to object. “Your quarrel is with me Rumina. My crew follows my command, and any hurt they have caused you falls squarely on my shoulders.” The look Rumina shot him was of pure ice. “Oh I know that already you petulant hero, I need no reminding that you’re the cause of my suffering,” she bristled. “And as much as I’d love to relieve them of their lives, I’m afraid I have something else in mind entirely.”

She saunters towards him slowly, never breaking eye contact with him and his prone form, as she squeezes her hand and twists. Sinbad feels unimaginable pain tear through his chest, as he is sure she means to squeeze all the air from his lungs, ringing them out of oxygen like water from a wet rag. Doubar yells something at her, but Sinbad can’t make out the words, too far gone in his suffering. The blackness caused by his lack of air returns, and he can barely register what she says next.  
“You will indeed die tonight dearest, unless your crew accepts the inevitability of the situation. I am now the most powerful sorceress in Arabia, quite possibly farther, but I don’t want to get too cocky just yet,” she laughs. “My rule over these lands is inevitable, as is my rule over you. All of you,” she punctuates, as she stared the three furious men down. “Unless you wish for your Captain to breathe his last breath, you will bring him to the forest edge near the palace gardens, where you will leave him to receive a breath of life from me. I leave the choice to you, because I’m quite tired of having you heroic types constantly try to outwit me with your inventions, tricks and lucky breaks. If you leave him with me, you leave him for good this time. Once he receives my breath of life, he will be bound to me irrevocably. I now have the power to do that, if you recall,” she laughs wickedly. 

“Enough teasing though. As I said before, the time for games is over. Bring him to me before the sun sets this night, or he will die. That is the choice. Life with me, or death without. Choose wisely,” Rumina purred as she caressed Sinbad’s cheek. “I do so look forward to us starting our life together, at long last.” And as she misted away, the blackness that threatened to overcome him finally fell, and he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

“Something’s wrong,” said Cairpra, with the assuredness that only a sorceress with her power could claim. It made Maeve shudder. She felt it too. It was coming from the palace, a feeling like the earth was about to open up and swallow all that was good into it. Exchanging a glance, the sorceress’ hurriedly left their perusing for potion ingredients in the town square, and sought the privacy of Cairpra’s abode. Although Maeve was eager to head for the palace immediately, as her fiery spirit urged, the elder sorceress advised otherwise. “It would not do to mist away in a crowded marketplace my child. Thought the people of Basra are no strangers to magic, it is best not to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. We don’t know who or what may be watching.” Besides, as Maeve reluctantly had to admit, they needed to pinpoint exactly what it was they were feeling, and where in the palace they needed to travel to. Falling into a trap born of flared emotions was something Maeve would be all too susceptible to, difficult as this was to accept.

Cairpra’s forethought was something Maeve admired in her wise mentor. Her calm nature, her quiet strength, her wholehearted belief in the power of good and the ability for those with strong hearts to harness it. She reminded her so much of Dim Dim. They must have been such a formidable couple, capable of ruling the world but never having had the thought cross their minds. They knew that true power came from the peace of a happy life, filled with love, learning and continual growth. Reveling in the miracle of a flower’s bloom, the birth of a child, the rising of the sun. Never had Maeve wished to have him back more than in that moment. To witness the magic that this couple, rooted in kindness and love, could harness. She felt the familiar knot in her stomach. Her guilt at not being able to protect him, her weakness at not being able to find him, and most especially, her inability to free him, and others that she loved, from the clutches of her enemies. 

“There has been a transference of power, my dear. The cloud of black magic has become ever great, and is seeping out over the city as we speak,” she confirmed grimly. A chill rippled through Maeve, and she suddenly wished she could be among her crew on the Nomad, her adopted family. What could have tipped the scales so far in Rumina’s favour. For it must be Rumina responsible for this change. It was no coincidence that a surge in black magic over Basra would coincide with the presence of one of its greatest known proponents. But hadn’t she just been weakened, humiliated and set back by Cairpra’s superiority? 

In an instant however, her blood ran cold. With sudden insight, she stuttered out, “The Obelisk… “ and she trailed off, lost to her fear. Sinbad was in trouble. She knew it with the same certainty which told her that Rumina had obtained it. Why else would her dark magic cloud such a beautiful day, one in which Maeve had learned so much, and gained such confidence in her abilities. How else could Rumina’s power and influence become so magnified, without the aid of such a potent magical object? She cursed herself for her stupidity in not staying with her Captain to aid him in rescuing the crew. Despite Sinbad’s reassurances that he didn’t her help, that she had done enough for him already by undoing Rumina’s shrinking curse, she should have known better than to let his pride win over her judgement. She was all too eager to continue her learning with Cairpra, and thus all too willing to let Sinbad fall into a trap born of false bravado. Of underestimating their enemies. Their egos would be the death of them, she thought wistfully. 

“We must get to the palace immediately Cairpra,” Maeve begged. “My crew…” she stuttered out, but had no more words to describe the extent of her fear for them, for him. As if to punctuate her point, Dermott, who had until recently been flying around the city contentedly, landed on her arm with a ruffled screech. The elder sorceress nodded with sympathy, and misted them into the main palace entrance. Upon their arrival, there was such a flurry of panic, disorder and fear that Maeve was sure a hoard of murder hornets had been loosed in the throne room. All she could worry about was Sinbad though. She had the same feeling when Rumina had abducted him and whisked him away to Skull Island, the same certainty that she had to follow her intuition to find him. Dermott urged her forward, straining against his ties to her falconry gloves. She released him and let him lead the way. Although it was perhaps unseemly to allow a hawk to fly freely throughout Omar’s palace, the throng of disorder caused by the theft of the Obelisk, and chiefly, her fear for Sinbad’s safety overrode her sense of decorum. 

She expected her brother to lead them down to the dungeons, where she knew Sinbad had been headed to rescue his crew. Omar had not taken kindly to Rumina’s identity theft, to say the least, and had ordered them imprisoned and tortured. She had set the stage for Baghdad and Basra to erupt into full scale war, while she swooped in and stole the Obelisk. Once achieved, the devastation Rumina would rain down upon them in accordance with her desire to rule over all the Near East, would make their war mongering seem like a petty squabble. It was soon clear however that Dermott was not headed towards the dungeons, leading her to assume that the crew had somehow managed to convince the Savage Sultan that witchcraft was involved. This realization did little to soothe her worries however, as that could only mean something convincingly terrible had to have befallen them after the statue’s theft, to make their story seem valid. 

With a screech, Dermott dove down yet another of the palace’s opulent and nearly identical hallways. Not for the first time, Maeve wished she could share her brother’s speed and acuity. Her human legs could simply not propel her quickly enough to relieve her rising anxiety. The thought was short lived however, as Dermott soon landed on a pedestal beside the doorway to what must have been the crew’s guest chambers. Not bothering to knock, Maeve pushed herself into the spacious suite, and had her awful premonitions realized. Doubar, Rongar and Firouz were surrounding the limp form of Sinbad, laid upon an elegant chaise lounge. Her brave, unassailable Captain, the man who she had reluctantly begun to allow into her heart. She had no words as the crew met her eyes, bound by shock and fear. Her mind whirled with a thousand incoherent thoughts and emotions at the same time.

Although pale, Sinbad looked as peaceful and beautiful as a sleeping angel (or perhaps, that last bit was her own opinion). Her initial shock numbed into a sense of relief that he was still breathing, however a more careful scrutiny revealed that the process was quite laboured. His breaths were frequent and shallow, and as she moved closer to examine him, she could see a sheen of sweat glistening upon his skin. She could also sense the grip of darkness upon him, holding him like a vise. The realization sent prickles throughout her being and sped her breath up to match her Captain’s. 

“Thank God you’re here Lass,” Doubar was the first to exclaim. “We need you to lift the curse that foul witch laid upon him.” “I see you’ve brought another sorceress as well,” gestured Firouz to Cairpra, who had silently entered the chamber. “A wise decision my dear. I for one always prefer to consult with my colleagues when possible, especially when faced with unusual and dire circumstances…” rambled Firouz, before being cut off suddenly by Doubar’s ranting. “Shut it Firouz, this is neither the time or place for your scientific musings! Now are you ladies going to get over here and cure my brother, or are you going to stand and stare all afternoon. Sunset is getting closer, and my patience is getting thinner!” 

Cairpra was the first to respond, with a grim and calm observation. “Your brother is being held by strong black magic, nourished by the power of a sacred object, which we neither have, nor have the ability to procure at this time.” The crew paused for a few moments, before Doubar exploded. “Meaning what exactly? I’m in no mood for riddles, so would one of you please tell me what your plan of action is!” “She means we can’t help him.” stated Maeve blankly, incredulously, having just realized it herself. “At least not right now,” she quickly interjected, fearing Doubar would die of an apoplectic fit, and that her own heart would be crushed with grief if she accepted the idea that the situation was hopeless. “We will find a way though… I will find a way,” Maeve continued, willing her faith to be truth. Sinbad could not be doomed. Could not succumb to whatever curse Rumina laid upon him. Could not be lost to her forever.


	4. Chapter 4

“We will all find a way,” assured Cairpra, “but it will not be an easy, nor a quick process.” “Whatever the process, we will follow it without hesitation,” assured Firouz, fearing Doubar had not the words or the wits at the moment to respond to this disheartening revelation. Cairpra smiled gently at the inventor, and continued to explain. “The Obelisk Rumina stole has magnified her powers tremendously. Infinitely. We can not hope to stand against her in this state. There are perhaps not even enough white magic sorcerers on the continent that could stand together to match her current power.” At this pronouncement, the room fell more silent than the grave. 

“What are we to do then,” Maeve pleaded, unable to accept that her greatest enemy, the one who had taken so much from her, could have all of her dreams of unchecked power come true. “We have two options,” answered Cairpra, and the crew focused their attention on her raptly, their hopes intertwined with her every word. “We can either win back the Obelisk from Rumina, a reckless and dubious venture given her current state of invincibility. Or,” Cairpra paused and stared at the crew pointedly, “we can acquire an object with similar magical powers. At the very least, powers that would be able to match her own long enough to take the Obelisk from her.”

Doubar, having recovered his wits sufficiently to speak, acerbically countered, “And I suppose you have one of these all powerful magical objects laying around your home? I damn well hope so, because as I said before, the sun is close to setting, and I will not be letting my brother die or be sacrificed to that vile woman.” “I don’t believe that’s the case Doubar,” answered Firouz, clearly flustered and thus having difficulty controlling his ramblings in the name of logic. “Given the protective measures that were taken to safeguard the Obelisk here in the Basra, which nonetheless proved to be insufficient against our least favourite evil sorceress, although well considered, I would say that the likelihood of Cairpra having one of those objects located in her home, despite her considerable powers, would be highly unlikely, and rather irresponsible truth be told…” Firouz was likely saved from being strangled by Doubar, by Rongar’s vehement gestures to the scientist to hold his tongue. 

“What do you mean by dying or being sacrificed to Rumina,” Maeve finally asked, having been too afraid to inquire about the nature of the curse, too afraid to hear the answer. She could not lose Sinbad, especially not to her. She had taken too much from her already, every time leaving her feeling more empty than the last. “It would help to know exactly what conditions Rumina set” clarified Cairpra, careful not to rouse the big man’s emotions any further, but still needing to identify the curse they were dealing with. Doubar grumbled out, “That cursed wench said that unless he received a “breath of life” or whatever that means from her by sundown, that he would die. She said we had to decide, and we never got a chance to hear what my brother’s opinion was in all of this before he passed out. I doubt he would prefer either choice,” he exhaled dejectedly.

Firouz, medically minded and more inclined towards details, continued to elaborate. “When Sinbad was hit with the spell, it went right into his chest, and he was immediately unable to breathe properly, losing his stability and ability to speak in rapid succession. These symptoms, coupled with her insistence that he needed her breath to live, leads me to believe that she has done something to his lungs, preventing them from effectively taking in the air necessary for his body to function.” At this point, Rongar began to sign, reminding them of an important detail they had both left out. Firouz thanked the attentive Moor, and added sheepishly, “There is one aspect of all this that we neglected to mention. It is an unfortunate sticking point, but she did note that once she administered this ‘breath of life’ to him, that there was no going back. He would allegedly be bonded to her forever.” 

Maeve could not respond, feeling very much as though the air was being stolen from her own lungs, wishing with all her being that she had been there to spare the man she had so recently begun to care for, to perhaps even love (though she fervently denied it), from becoming prey to the enemy they shared. This was Rumina’s message to them and to him that she was in control. Sinbad could try to escape her all he wanted, foil her quest for greater power in the interim, but as she promised, he was fighting the inevitable. Rumina always got what she wanted, particularly where revenge and desire were concerned, sentiments which, in addition to her unrelenting pursuit of power, consumed her life. He had to learn his place, just like everyone else. Just like Dermott. Just like Maeve herself. Sinbad took her father’s life, and now she would take his. And his payment would be long and drawn out, a quick death being neither satisfying or fun enough for her, or painful and degrading enough for him. 

Maeve was saved from having to speak by Cairpra, who remained stoic yet grim with her words and expression. “I am familiar with such curses, those where the caster seeks entry into the body and eventually, the very being of the victim. A despicable yet effective means of control. Deprive a victim of an element their body needs for survival: blood, water, food, sunlight or in your captain’s case, air, and they will die. However, if the caster provides the panacea, the missing element necessary for their survival, it is laced with their essence, their power, and they bind with the victim’s very being. Those who employ black magic have used such curses throughout history to influence rulers, acquire wealth, importance, leverage. It is one of the ways practitioners of the dark arts are able to endure, by ensuring that their lineage and prominence is secure. A curse such as this must be used with great discretion however. The caster can only bind to and sustain the life force of one being at a time.”   
“Then why curse my brother!?” erupted Doubar. “He is neither royal nor heir to a fortune. Sure she could extend her lineage through him, but why waste her one opportunity to use this curse on a reputable but nonetheless common sailor! Should she not bewitch a Caliph, a Sultan, an Emperor, a Pharoah… surely there are more influential and less petty choices!”

“Because she doesn’t need to Doubar,” admitted Maeve reluctantly. This is about what she wants, not what she needs, she reflects with disgust. “Rumina now has the most power on the continent,” continued Cairpra. “She can easily bend rulers to her will, amass whatever fortune she wants or requires. She doesn’t need to curse them. They will give her what she wants in exchange for their survival, for continuance of their elevated status, even if they ultimately must bow to her as most supreme. If they wont, she’ll depose them, and replace them with another who is all too willing to meet her demands. Warriors, priests, the wealthy, and the otherwise important will eventually follow suit. The common folk and whatever small bands of rebels may assemble against her, pose no serious threat, and can be dealt with by her minions. She does not care if she wins the hearts of her subjects,“ she sighs. “Only their compliance.” 

In addition to Rumina’s desire for revenge and lust for him, Maeve knew that cursing Sinbad was a calculated decision. He may be her icing on top of the cake in all of this. Her trophy. But he was also one of the few who were too brave, too proud, too principled to go down quietly. The perfect candidate to lead a rebellion against her. As such, his reputation as a beloved hero, fallen to her will, would go a long way to break the spirits of any who would dare even think to stand against her. Who could possibly hope to win against the woman who turned the legendary Sinbad the Sailor into her willing consort? And if by some chance, the crew decided to give him over to Allah instead of her, his death at her hands would send an equally ruthless message. 

“You have a difficult choice ahead of you then,” Cairpra directed to the crew, “one that I cannot make for you. You would certainly spare your brother a great deal of misery by allowing him to die peacefully. From what I know and have heard about him however, I fear that would be a terrible waste. While darkness gathers, we must nurture whatever goodness, whatever hope we can find. Otherwise evil will truly prevail. Sinbad has a strong heart, a pure soul. Formidable in his body and mind. He is blessed by powerful beings as of yet unknown to us,” as she gestures to his rainbow bracelet. “If anyone can survive a binding curse such as this, it would be him.”

“And he will have help. Friends who will gladly die for him, for our country, for what is right and good,” assured Firouz, for once not pissing off Doubar with his response. “Aye, that he does my friend,” he agreed, while Rongar placed both his hands upon their shoulders in solidarity. And although Maeve knew they were decidedly outmatched, she could not help but nod towards them, allowing the flame of hope to be kindled in her heart.


	5. Chapter 5

The walk through the palace gardens felt like the longest Maeve had ever endured. It was much like a funeral procession, only missing a casket. Instead, Doubar led the group, carrying Sinbad in his arms, a sad echo of how he must have done when raising his little brother from infancy. Rongar and Firouz followed close by, the scientist and prince, but in this case, dear friends, family, who lamented the task ahead of them. Maeve and Cairpra trailed behind, neither sorceress inclined to speak, lost in their own thoughts. 

Before seeking access to the gardens, Cairpra had gone to speak with Omar. She warned him to prepare for war, the likes of which he was woefully unprepared for. A war of magic, where one’s wits were more important than their sword, where the considerable weaponry he had at his disposal would be as useful as wielding pitchforks against a dragon. She assured him she would stay in Basra to devise a plan of action, although she had more pressing and personal matters to attend to for the time being. While offered, the crew did not bother to employ the use of his guards, for what would be the point? There was no need to cause more suffering and death than would soon befall them all, by sending Rumina flies to swat.

They soon reached the edge of the palace gardens, as the sun was falling behind the forest trees. Doubar laid his brother upon an ornately sculpted bench close to the forest grounds, as though upon a sacrificial altar. Their normally dynamic and indomitable captain was completely oblivious to all that was happening around him, like prey waiting for the vulture to descend. “Forgive me little brother,” Doubar tearfully begged. “I raised you the best I could, protected you, loved you like a son before I was even a man myself. I’m sorry to have failed you now…” he broke off to take a breath and dry his tears. “But I will make it right, if it takes the very last breath in my body. We will save you,” as he felt Firouz and Rongar’s reassuring hands upon his shoulder. 

As if on cue, a silky laugh echoed on the wind. Rumina appeared in regal splendour, radiant with her impending victory, not to mention an Empire’s fortune worth of glistening jewels. Robes of blood red and ebony never matched her better. Her eyes seemed to glow with maudlin joy, and wicked power radiated through her very being, right from her soul through to the ends of her hair. “I hope you’ve had a chance to say goodbye to your beloved captain” she drawled, savouring their looks of grief and hatred. “Don’t worry, I’ll take exceptional care of him. Cheer up big man,” she teased Doubar. “It’s not every day you find out that your baby brother gets to rule over the Near East, by becoming the greatest of royal consorts to an Empress without equal. Besides, if you and he behave yourselves, I might even arrange for family visits. Happy wife happy life works in the reverse too you know,” she chuckled gleefully. 

Irate is too gentle a word to describe Maeve’s feelings at that moment. “Sinbad will never be happy with you, you deranged cow. He’ll sooner die than submit to your love. There’s a difference between coercion and consent, something you just don’t seem to get.” Rumina, though clearly having had her ire peaked by the Nomad’s resident sorceress, offered a deadly cold smile in return. “Consent is for those who are too weak to take what they want, you pathetic peasant witch. Besides, I don’t bother myself with the opinions of peasants, or sailors.” She paused. “Or anyone to be perfectly honest” she giggled, her words in stark contrast to her disturbingly dismissive attitude. “That’s the problem with you crusaders for the side of ‘good.’ You give and give of yourselves, following your principals until there’s nothing left but defeat, loss and regret. I on the other hand, am only too happy to take…whatever I want,” as she slithers closer to move a lock of soft brown hair from Sinbad’s eyes.

Maeve cannot stomach the action. She draws her sword before she has time to consider the consequences, no words for her enemy but breaths filled with seething, protective anger. Cairpra is quick to interject. “This will do no good Maeve.” The authority in her words, and the shock at hearing her name uttered by one she respected so greatly, snapped Maeve out of her murderous trance. She glowered as she stared directly into Rumina’s eyes, and sheathed her sword, her opinion on the matter all too clear. “You may have won this battle you painted harlot, but you will not win the war,” she promised, her words echoing with more certainty than her logic allowed. Rumina smiled at her with mock sympathy. “Well you tattered whore, it seems that this isn’t the first battle you’ve lost, nor will it be the last. The war doesn’t seem to be going too well for you, and your odds are unlikely to improve in the near future.” 

Her words stabbed through Maeve sharper than any dagger, primarily because they were true. False bravado was ineffective on an enemy that had wrought so much pain and loss upon her. Rumina’s earlier words about giving and giving until there was nothing left weighed heavily upon her. First her brother, then Dim Dim, now Sinbad. How much more loss could she suffer before she drowned in her defeat? As if to punctuate her point, Rumina added, “I should kill you now for your insolence and spare myself the trouble later. But as you no doubt have realized, I do enjoy prioritizing pleasure over practicality on occasion. What a waste it would be to end your life while your beloved Captain isn’t awake to witness it?” Of course Rumina would want Sinbad to watch her die, Maeve acknowledges. If her curse worked out properly, she may even make him be the one to do it, in a perfect coup d’etat of their twisted love triangle. And if he managed to somehow resist her wishes, she would make him watch the spectacle helplessly as he languished in her arms, as much a punishment for him as it would be for her. Like all things with Rumina, even killing had to be done with style.

“Also, I wouldn’t want to dirty my dress for our lovemaking,” Rumina adds, as a final twist to the knife in Maeve’s heart. “Call me a romantic, but our first time together should be special, wouldn’t you agree?” she beamed, her eyes glimmering with lustful malice. “Enough of all this merriment though. I’m growing impatient, delayed gratification can be so frustrating!” she winks at the crew, before gazing upon Sinbad with as much affection as a contorted love like hers could allow. As the last rays of sunlight flickered behind the trees, she descended her lips upon his in an ardent, unreturned kiss, sharing with him her breath of life as she misted them away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter is quite dark, and features sexual content with dubious consent. Reader discretion advised.

When Sinbad woke, his extremely groggy state took a moment to register that he lay upon the softest bed he could remember. It was oddly familiar somehow, but the memory was not pleasant, as if the silky sheets were preparing to strangle him. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, his stomach dropped, and he very much wished that his aforementioned thought would come true. He remembered where he’d felt a bed like this before, where cold stone met opulence, blended together with macabre décor that matched the distinct taste of its designer. Rich tapestries, plush cushions and enough gold to make King Midas himself weep, could not mask the evil emanating from every surface. The skulls were the only honest thing about this place… he was going to die here, or at least, his soul would. 

His disgust at the foreboding surroundings was soon replaced by disbelief and misery. The fact that he was here meant that his crew chose to take Rumina up on her bargain. That Cairpra and Maeve, his Maeve, were unable to break the curse. That Rumina’s power was now so great that Dim Dim’s own wife and apprentice could not apprehend it. The world was doomed. He was doomed. It would have been better to let him die than to let him be a failure. To become the witless, powerless plaything of his sworn enemy. He could not fully fathom what being bound to Rumina ‘irrevocably’ meant, but whatever it entailed, it was horrible to consider. Would she remove every semblance of himself, doing away with his spirit entirely while enchanting his mind into an obedient trance? Would she let him retain his senses, but be unable to control his actions, as twisted a method of psychological torture that he could imagine. But worst of all, could she somehow find a way to make him actually love her? To make him willingly rule beside her? 

No, he immediately swore. His heart was stronger than any magic. He was the ineffable Captain Sinbad, master of the seven seas. He would be master of his own heart, his own being, and would not become a pawn for Rumina with which to fulfill her dark designs. And if he felt himself slipping, he would use the last of his will to end his own life, rather than give her the satisfaction of having him destroy those he loved. To subvert the cause of good he had devoted his life to. To let her win. 

He was interrupted from this morose train of thought by the arrival of his tormentor. Rumina glided into his view looking every bit like a fallen angel, her beautiful exterior unable to entirely mask the rotten soul within. As he took in her sultry appearance, he could not help but notice the sheerness of the robe she wore. The perfect curves on her tiny frame. The way her eyes glistened with the promise of exquisite pleasure. Wait… what? Such thoughts were so disturbing to him, that he immediately moved to spring up, only to realize that his arms were tied to the sides of the bed with silky cloth. How did he not notice that before? Had he been bound the whole time, or had she done it during his distracted staring? 

“Relax my love, there’s no need to get up. You can go back to admiring me in the comfort of our own bed,” she giggled. Sitting up on his elbows, Sinbad fixed her with a cold stare. “In your dreams Rumina,” he retorted. “I don’t much admire women who try to tie me down… literally in your case.” She stared at him boldly for a moment, before waving her hands and releasing him from his bonds. “As you wish Sinbad. My apologies. I can be a bit controlling at times, and a bit playful in my tastes. I told you before, life with me will be anything but settled,” she smirked, settling herself beside him to meet eye to eye. 

She reached out with one hand to caress his hair and cheek, running her hand down his neck to rest upon his chest. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, you know,” she admitted. “My father wanted you dead, but I knew that we were meant to be together. You may not see it yet, but you will. Chemistry like ours is undeniable. Yin and Yang as they say in the Far East. The dark and light bound together, forever opposites but complimentary, giving rise to our truest potential… our truest power. You and I will be an unstoppable force. All will bow to our rule.” 

Sinbad was thoroughly unimpressed with her philosophy lesson. “I agree Rumina. We are complete opposites. You seek power to control everyone and everything around you, whereas the power to live a free life, and help others to do the same, is all I ever wanted.” He knew that none of his words made a difference to her. He might as well be arguing with a stone wall. Frustrated and becoming increasingly uncomfortable at her hypnotic staring, he moved to put distance between them. But he found that for some reason, he remained where he was. He suddenly felt very warm, unmistakable heat building between them. Time to go Sinbad, curse be damned he admonished. 

But he didn’t. He stayed. And he let Rumina kiss him. And to his horror, he kissed her back. He really should have stopped, but she tasted as delicious as the finest wine, his senses becoming overwhelmed with pleasure. Hadn’t he always wanted her? What was the big deal really, she was an especially beautiful woman. Perhaps not quite as beautiful as Maeve, but no one was as beautiful as Maeve… 

Maeve! Sinbad pulled away from Rumina in shock. What in Allah’s name was wrong with him? He was no stranger to seduction, especially from this particular woman. Instead of fighting his curse and trying to find a way out of his disturbing ‘bond’ with her, he was allowing himself to indulge in this temptress. This monster who cared only about herself, blowing past anyone and anything in her way as collateral, unless she deemed them worthy of her attention. He was suddenly very glad that Maeve was not there to see his weakness. Especially when Rumina stood up to release her robe, allowing it to pool at her feet. 

What happened next was a confusing blur, but Sinbad was soon beyond caring. Somehow his shirt had been discarded, perhaps ripped, he didn’t really know. Rumina’s lipstick was smeared all over his neck and chest, and were those bite marks or bruises? Whatever they were, Rumina was decorated with them too. What a delicious woman. Why hadn’t he indulged in her before exactly? It didn’t matter. He was lost in a fog of lust so overwhelming, that he was sure he would never find his way out. He devoured her like a man starved, like she was the very air he breathed. Their coupling was raw, searing, blinding, frightening sensation. It wasn’t until he emptied himself inside her and she stopped panting beneath him, that he felt the shame.

He rolled himself off of her quickly, his heart filled with despair. How could he have lost himself to her so completely? Why didn’t he run? Where was his morality, his strength, his infallibility? He was not some lecher who couldn’t control his lust. At least, he thought he wasn’t. He had been desperate for her, like he wanted, no, needed something from her that only she could give. As though being as close as possible to her was the only way he could feel complete… 

“It’s the curse isn’t it,” Sinbad affirmed with bitter certainty, less a question than a realization. Rumina nuzzled in closer to him. “What do you mean my passionate sailor?” she teased. “I always knew you were good with the ladies, but that was truly exceptional.” Sinbad said nothing in response, didn’t turn to look at her, didn’t move away. What would be the point really? He was hers. She had got what she always wanted. She had won. 

Sensing his despondency, she rested his head upon her chest and ran her fingers through his thick, soft hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself Sinbad,” she soothed. “How can any man resist the very air he breathes?” The twisted scenario of his tormentor comforting him after the pain she caused, snapped him out of his reverie. He disentangled himself from her arms, and stood abruptly, wrapping a blanket around himself as if it would somehow negate his earlier lack of modesty. Rumina was clearly amused by this, reveling in his discomfort. This was the perfect combination of pleasure and pain she had envisioned for the man she was determined to break. “I’m a part of you now you know,” she stated, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “I sustain your life, and your very being knows it, whether you chose to accept it or not. Our lovemaking is only the beginning. With every day that passes, more and more of you will become mine, until we’re twisted so closely together that you won’t even know where you end and I begin.” 

“You sicken me Rumina,” Sinbad affirmed. “If you wanted me to stay by your side like a witless pet, then why didn’t you just cast a spell on me and be done with it. I thought you said you were finished playing games. Why let me resist you at all? Risk my escape. I’m very resourceful, as I’m sure you know.” She smiled reverently, and stood to look up into his crystal blue eyes, clearly not ashamed by her nakedness. “Believe it or not Sinbad, I do actually care for you. I admire your strength, your goodness, your struggle against your desire for me. I never wanted you to be a mindless slave, obeying my every whim like a lost puppy. How boring, and what a waste of an exceptional man like you.” She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her luscious body against him. Despite himself, Sinbad found the gesture and her words rather soothing. He found himself holding her, allowing her to rest her head upon his shoulder, caught up once again in her allure. 

“I knew all you needed was a push in the right direction my love,” she continued, feathering soft kisses across his neck, over the marks she had left upon him. “You were afraid to take a step into the dark, afraid you would lose your way, so you closed your mind against the temptation. All I’ve done really is help you to open it, to see the possibilities before you that you feared to consider. To finally find your place, your purpose in the world, rather than chasing across the ocean searching for it for all your days.” 

The ocean, the Nomad, his home. His crew. His brother. His family. How could he abandon them? To allow himself to forget them, to betray them. Even if this felt so right, it was so very wrong. He could no longer trust his feelings he realized. He would have to grasp on to his morality, his logic, his sense of purpose to pull himself out of her clutches. To preserve whatever remnant of himself he could for as long as he could, to have any hope of finding a way to break the curse. To give his crew time to gather enough strength to defeat Rumina. To give Maeve the chance to get the revenge she always wanted, and to find the peace she was looking for. He owed that at least to the woman he quietly loved. 

He used this clarity of thought to hold Rumina at arms length, as he fixed himself at eye level with her. “I will not go down without a fight Rumina. You must know this. I would not be myself if I didn’t, the self that you are apparently so fond of.” She smiled at him with sympathy, and sauntered away from him to glide around the room. “Oh Sinbad, of course I understand that. Expected it too. The thing is, nothing that you do will make any difference. The curse will progress along its defined path as it is meant to.” 

She turned back to him and began to move forward, fixing him with a playful gaze. “Since you seem dubious about the details though, let me spell them out for you. The end result is that you will not be able to live without me, quite literally. Even being apart from me for too long will feel like agony. Your thoughts, your actions, your very soul will be devoted to me. You will be sentient. You will be you, but you will be mine as well. Clever, charming, formidable and stubborn captain Sinbad. My husband, my protector, the love of my life. Fighting for a common cause, ruling by my side, your life filled with passion and purpose.”

Sinbad shook his head with revulsion and turned from her to walk away. He wasn’t sure where he was going, where he could go, but he desperately needed to put some distance between them. If he was going to plan his escape, he was going to do it far away from her, curse or no curse. Rumina didn’t seem the least bit bothered by this, which in truth, irritated him even more. “If you’re looking for a nice place to brood, I would suggest heading left at the end of the hall, towards my personal gardens. They feature one of the finest collections of black roses on the continent. I plan to use them for my wedding bouquet,” she giggled. He paused for a moment, wondering how close he could get to strangling her before she zapped him with her powers, until he was calm enough to dispel the thought. He kept on walking, not giving her the satisfaction of a response. He didn’t care what she said the trajectory of the curse was. He was an outlier, and as stubborn as she said. He was always one to defy the odds, and he was damn sure he would defy these ones.

“Anyways, I’ve had quite the exhilarating day, and another busy one ahead of me tomorrow. I’m off to get some much needed rest,” she called after his retreating form. “Oh, and one more thing dearest. Don’t plot too hard about how to kill me in my sleep. Since I sustain your life, if I die, you die. And what a shame that would be, for both of us.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sinbad was determined not to head towards Rumina’s gardens, and it wasn’t because he was averse to romantic and lush foliage. He was quite fond of formal gardens actually, having enjoyed their peaceful, amorous ambience both alone, and with more than a few lovely ladies in the past. It was simply because he wanted to do exactly the opposite of what Rumina said, this childlike obstinance a balm for his aching soul, if only temporarily. The adventurer within him was also curious to discover the parameters of his gilded cage. The last time he was here, he only got to see the main room and her personal dungeons, which he suppressed a shudder considering. He briefly wondered if there were more unfortunate souls transformed and locked up in cages for upsetting her feelings, but the memory of his experience as an unwilling guest there made him reluctant to visit them again. Especially given his unpredictable mental state at the moment. Sinbad hated this vulnerability. He was strong, he was brave, he was unbreakable. He was no prisoner. He was no plaything. He was no obedient husband. And he was determined to prove it to his would-be bride soon enough. 

Sinbad’s explorations led him to a dimly lit hallway, elegantly adorned with rich tapestries and wrought iron chandeliers. Hollowed out from the rock, it curved like a snake, branching into various caverns. Most of them featured locked doors made of heavy iron, which wouldn’t budge despite his best efforts. Rumina was quite good at protecting her privacy and preventing escapes, Sinbad reflected with irritation. He thought of Doubar wistfully, wishing he had his elder brother’s strength there to literally break down any barriers in his path. Truthfully though, if he had the power to wish, he wished he would have whisked away the Obelisk back to Baghdad before this entire mess happened. Or even more so, that he would have dispatched of Rumina at the same time that he did her father, even if he had forfeited his own life in the process. His gallantry and short sightedness had failed him, leading him to assume a young woman shattered by the death of her only family would not pose a significant threat in the future. How wrong he was. And he had no shortage of both physical and mental scars to prove it. 

Eventually he came upon a door that gave way beneath his sore shoulder. Small victories, he thought to himself, failing at supressing a boyish grin. No matter what the odds, Sinbad was forever hopeful, and willing to challenge them, even with nothing but sheer force of will and a bit of luck. The heavy door inched upon to reveal a surprisingly pedestrian looking room, lacking the ostentatious decor characteristic of his captor’s tastes. It was clearly designed for practical purposes, given the expansive stone tables, bookshelves and glass vessels filled with all manner of bizzare and disturbing things. He decided not to look too closely at them, after he saw what appeared to be a floating eyeball with black tentacles creepily shifting its eyes back and forth, to finally rest upon his face. What wonderful taste his lovely fiancée had in pets, he thought acerbically.

Sinbad sifted through the leather tomes, not really sure what he was looking for, but determined nonetheless to be useful, to grasp at straws for his freedom no matter how dubious a result that seemed. Many of them were in languages he could not even identify, never mind read. After what must have been several hours of compulsive reading, quite sure that dawn was breaking, he was grateful to have fought through his exhaustion to find a volume that peaked his interest. He didn’t initially notice it, as it was laid upon one of stone tables, covered by sheets of scrawled writing and bits of strangely coloured herbs that he was reluctant to touch with his bare hands. It was open upon on an ear worn page, indicating it wasn’t the first time the contents of this particular folio had been consulted. He suppressed a shudder, thinking of how many generations of evil had pored through the volumes in this room, concocting wicked potions and expanding their knowledge of curses and whatever other things those who practiced the dark arts sought to learn. His earlier curious spirit was starting to wear thin, and he suddenly felt very much like an intruder, that the walls themselves were accusing him for his trespass. 

Listening to his instinct, which had saved him more than once in the past (to say the least), Sinbad quickly tore the page in question out of it’s leather bindings, and stuffed it into his waistband. In the process, he grabbed Rumina’s scrawled upon notepapers, just for good measure. They had pictures, writing and the one at the bottom seemed to have a map of some sort. He’d take a look at them later. He hurriedly moved to scatter all the displaced ingredients back into place on top of it, when he felt a searing pain upon his hand. It appeared his original reluctance to touch the unknown herbs littered upon the tables was right, as he noted a bubbling burn begin to form upon his palm. For all her meticulous style, Rumina certainly wasn’t good at tidying up after herself.

Just as Sinbad was beginning to panic at his realization that the wound was continuing to spread with foaming agony across his skin, he heard a voice at the door that made him feel like a child caught sneaking treats when they should be in bed. “My, my, my you naughty sailor, I had no idea you had an interest in potion making. Was that bungling scientist friend of yours starting to rub off on you?” she taunted, while moving to catch his hand in her grip. “Tsk tsk. The first rule of potion making is that you always cover up, in case of instances like, well, this.” 

Despite the horrible pain that was making him sweat, he spat out, “Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to leave enchanted caustic substances laying around for no apparent reason, other than a lack of housekeeping skills.” Rumina fixed him with a look that was less than pleased. “Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting my future husband to go snooping around my conjuring room without permission in the dead of night like some vagabond. Besides, do I look like the sort of woman who cleans up after herself?” she teased, gesturing to her immaculate manicure. “That’s what servants are for dearest.” 

Black spots were starting to form in Sinbad’s vision, and he was fairly certain he would chip a tooth from clenching. Rumina noted this, and smiled at him gloatingly. “Now, while I do enjoy to see you suffer for your audacity, at this point, I feel as though your lesson about trespassing where you’re not welcome has been burned into your memory sufficiently.” Sinbad did not appreciate the pun, but bit his tongue, ashamedly eager for her to make the wound stop spreading. It was nearly covering his entire hand, and his flesh seemed ready to melt into a pool upon the granite floor. He nodded his head reluctantly, willing her to get on with it. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t done toying with him yet. 

“Tell you what sailor, if you ask me nicely enough, I’ll make your hand as good as new. To be honest, I’m not too eager for you to melt into a pile of flesh upon my flooring. What a terrible waste of such a pretty man that would be.” For a second, Sinbad considered if melting into an acidic flesh pile wouldn’t actually be worse than putting up with Rumina’s cloying pet names for the rest of his days, but he grudgingly relented. “Please Rumina… would you make it stop… please,” he forced out, to his great distaste. She smiled her characteristically malevolent smile, and taunted, “Come on Sinbad, you can do better than that. Make me feel how grateful you would be. How much you love me and trust me to be there for you the way I expect you to be for me.”

Sinbad was beyond caring about his pride at this point. He was a survivor. He wanted to live, and he needed her to do so. Besides, he had submitted to this woman much more shamefully just a few hours before, so he wasn’t proving anything to anyone by prolonging this. “Rumina, my love, I’m so sorry for not listening to you and respecting you as a beautiful woman like you deserves. I promise I will make it up to you if you heal me… please.” His loathsome begging seemed to have the desired effect on her, as she readily clasped her hand over his, surrounding it in red light. Once the glow faded, his pain had completely dissipated, his hand softer even then it was before. “Thank you,” Sinbad sheepishly muttered, wishing for the awkward moment to be over. As he turned and moved to pull his hand away however, Rumina kept a firm hold upon it. He looked back at her and saw in her eyes that she expected more. He swore he could hear her speak in his mind, telling him to thank her properly. And rather than question this new development, he pulled her into a deep kiss. 

Such intimate embraces no longer felt quite like the ordeal they used to. He was beginning to enjoy these dalliances, and was guilty to note that his self loathing over them was starting to fade. Given what she had told him about the natural progression of the curse, he was sadly not surprised. Her promise to him echoed in his mind. “With every day that passes, more and more of you will become mine, until we’re twisted so closely together that you won’t even know where you end and I begin.” Eventually they pulled apart breathlessly, and Sinbad was gratefully able to turn himself away from her and lean one arm against the doorframe, lost in his wistful thoughts. 

Rumina sidled up beside him to slip her arm through his free one. “You know my love, I think you’re ready for a little, shall we say, excursion.” Sinbad turned to look at her as though she had sprouted an additional head. “Excursion?” he questioned, hopeful but also dubious. He knew better than to be excited about whatever she had in mind. “Yes dearest,” she replied, urging him to walk along with her arm in the arm back through the twisted hallway. “I feel like we’ve made such wonderful progress during the past half day. In fact, I now know that you can hear me in your mind.” 

Sinbad froze in place and stared at her open mouthed, confusion etched upon his fine features. “How…” he managed to stammer out. Rumina chuckled and admitted, “Because I can hear you now too, sweet sailor.” She saw his doubtful expression, and elaborated. “Just now, you were missing your crew on the Nomad, and your beloved life as a captain and adventurer, a life your heart aches to return to.” Sinbad was thoroughly unimpressed by this revelation. “So, you can read my thoughts now? It’s not enough to steal my life, my future from me, to poison my mind. Now I can’t even retain a bit of privacy?!” he spat. Rumina chuckled to herself. “No my love, its not quite that extreme. Although I’d greatly enjoy looking into that pretty head of yours, I can only hear the thoughts you express strongly and deliberately. Our connection is such that you can speak to me without words, and I to you. You were sending me your thoughts about the life you were missing, because you felt it so strongly, and a part of you wanted me to hear it, to take pity on you, to feel bad for what I’ve done.” Sinbad glowered. “I don’t want your pity Rumina.” “And I don’t feel bad for what I’ve done,” she countered maliciously. 

She linked her arm through his again, as they continued traversing the hallway. “Luckily, I’ve always had a soft spot for you. One that you hardly deserve,“ she glared pointedly. “But given our blissful evening together, your convincing thank you for that nasty hand melting incident, and the fact that we now share a special way of communicating with each other, I’m feeling confident that my little gift to you will go a long way in helping you develop… let’s say, a greater appreciation for me,” she smiled darkly. Part of Sinbad wanted to throw her so-called gift in her face and tell her to chain him in her dungeons so it would be evident how much of a prisoner he actually was, but his curiosity won out. “Let me guess,” he countered sarcastically. “You’re going to let me go for a jaunt in a neighbouring village, to pick up some fresh eggs, milk and bread for breakfast?” Rumina erupted with laughter. “Oh goodness Sinbad, you can be so adorable sometimes. I hardly need you to fetch me my breakfast, let alone such a mundane one. That’s what servants are for. No more trekking for hours into godforsaken excuses for civilization to obtain meager supplies. Don’t worry,” she paused, noting his annoyed expression. “You’ll get used to this superior lifestyle soon enough.”

“What I had in mind was something you’ll like much, much better,” she continued, before he had a chance to tell her what he really thought of her ‘superior’ lifestyle. “Your dear brother is missing you terribly I’m sure, as does the rest of your crew. I’m not particularly fond of that flame haired, pitiful excuse for a sorceress you associate with, but I’ll make sure she’s out of the way soon enough.” Sinbad visibly bristled at this and was about to retort, when she cut off his protest, “Just listen will you sailor?! Do you want to see your friends or not? Do you want to return to your sorry little ship or not? Don’t make me regret my exceedingly generous offer!” Sinbad could hardly believe his ears. Was she actually going to let him return to the Nomad, to his crew? This was beyond suspicious to him, but it didn’t stop his heart from nearly leaping out of the chest.

“What’s the catch Rumina?” he demanded, hoping to sound infinitely more calm and collected than he felt. Besides, his years of experience taught him that there was no such thing as a free feast. “Oh Sinbad,” she drawled. “Must you always be so mistrustful of me?” Yes, he immediately thought. There were too many reasons for him to even list. “Okay fine, I’ll admit I’ve been less than forthcoming with you in the past,” Rumina admitted, clearly answering his mind’s accusation. He was really going to have to get better at keeping his thoughts to himself. What a prison this truly was, now that he couldn’t even think angrily at her in case she heard it. “But I’m ready to start anew,” Rumina continued, “now that we’re to begin our lives together at long last.” Sinbad didn’t buy her drivel for a minute, but he kept that thought to himself. He hoped. 

So engrossed in the conversation, he hadn’t noticed that they had reached an elegant wrought iron and glass door, flooded with light, such that it burned his eyes after all the hours he had spent in the darkened cave. Rumina used her magic to unlock and push it open, to reveal what he was sure was his least favourite forest. Being chased by a vicious man beast hell bent on killing him, didn’t leave him with the fondest memories of this place. “So what do you say, great Sinbad the Sailor? Are you ready to enjoy a family visit?” she inquired sweetly. “I could really use the time to prepare for my impending takeovers, without having such a delicious distraction around,” she purred.  
Sinbad wasn’t sure what to do in truth. He sensed this was a trap, that Rumina would somehow use this to her advantage, though he wasn’t yet sure how. Or maybe, he thought sickeningly, she simply wanted to parade him around to his friends and family, taking pleasure in the discomfort he felt at knowing what he had done with her. Of how much he was losing his battle with the curse. And of how with every passing minute, he was becoming more and more entangled with her, and simultaneously detached from them, soon to become the very thing they needed to destroy.

He shook his head from these defeatist thought however. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t give in so easily, that he would fight with the last shred of his will. Besides, he had those pages from Rumina’s conjuring room that his gut instinct told him were important, though he tried not to think about them too much in case she learned of his sticky fingers. It was fortunate in a way that the hand fiasco had happened, distracting her attention from what he had discovered while snooping. Maeve would know how to decipher them… he would leave them with her. And perhaps his crew would have good news for him. That they’d found a way to break the curse, or a way to amass enough power to overthrow his wicked betrothed . That he would never again find himself reluctantly melting into her embrace. The thought of bathing in the sensation of freedom, of hope, was too tempting for him to resist, risk be damned. 

Sinbad nodded to her. “I’m ready.” Rumina answered him with her signature smirk. “As you wish, dearest. I hope you enjoy your little visit, but I suspect you'll find yourself ready to come home sooner than you think.” And before he could think of a witty and defiant retort, she grasped his hand, and he was caught up in a cloud of swirling mist.


	8. Chapter 8

Maeve was convinced she never wanted to see, never mind read, another book in her life. The great library of Basra was indeed magnificent, any scholar’s dream, and many a sorceress’s as well. It spanned nearly a mile across the city, palatial in both its size and architecture. A melange of stucco, stone, mosaics and stained glass windows, it rivaled the beauty of the city’s grand mosque, and even the Sultan’s own palace. Many learned people were content to spend a sizeable portion of their lives nestled among the thousands of tomes (and a plentiful floor cushions), simultaneously absorbing and producing knowledge to be shared with academics across the continent. The aspiring and astute sorceress would normally relish such an opportunity, following in the path of her beloved Dim Dim, and her new mentor, who was his very own wife. However, she found her mind to be far too preoccupied with matters of the heart to absorb much of anything other than frustration and anxiety.

Caipra and Firouz on the other hand, seemed far more focused on their research. Maeve was quite sure that despite himself, Firouz was relishing the research opportunity. Basra was after all, his home. When he wasn’t designing exceedingly complicated doorbells and attempting to not blow apart his abode in a fit of explosive inspiration, he likely spent a great deal of time adding to this very library’s flow of knowledge. Cairpra was a mask of concentration, the only indication that she felt any concern at the situation being the occasional tremor in her hand as she turned each page. “Perhaps you should take a break my dear,” she directed at Maeve, not pausing to look up from her study. “I can hear your heart beating from across the room, never mind your restless twitching.” 

Maeve took a deep breath and attempted to still her mind and body. A passionate person by nature, it was hard for her to hide her emotions and to absorb herself in a task demanding focus, when her very soul demanded action. “Have either of you come across anything of interest?” Maeve gently inquired, trying her best not to allow her frustration to show. Her own volume concerning magical objects from the continent of Gaul had yielded little. What exactly were they supposed to do with a magical sword stuck in stone? Although, she reflected with fondness, Sinbad would probably love to go on a quest to find it. She really needed to get his beautiful face out of her mind she admonished, before all she had left of him was a memory. 

She was almost sorry she asked, as soon as Firouz began extrapolating about his findings. “I’ve just been reading the most fascinating treatise about the existence of mystical Jewish sects, who seek to form a pathway between the very heavens and the earth through language and knowledge. Knowledge! I’ve always said that a world ruled by reason and logic would open humanity up to the greatest possibilities….” “Firouz my dear,” interrupted Cairpra, with the patience of a saint. “I know we are all feeling a bit off kilter given the circumstances, but we must refocus our attention on the task at hand if we are to save your captain, not to mention countless others.” She was right of course. She was always right. Maeve wondered briefly if Dim Dim thought that too, with a flash of amusement. 

Cairpra fixed them both with a stern gaze. “I have come across some information of possible use, but it is unfortunately lacking in required details. I intend to follow my lead with a few more related sources, but I sense that the two of you would benefit from some time with your crew.” Both Maeve and Firouz were about to object when Cairpra cut them off abruptly. “No arguments. The two of you need to clear your mind of emotions and regain your wits. Perhaps get some nourishment and sleep. Not to mention that I need some time to think alone. There are some heavy options to weigh, and I would prefer you were not here to distract me.” Her response brokered no argument. With a solemn nod, Maeve exited the library, practically dragging Firouz with her. 

“Really, I’m sure that I could have found something useful if she had only allowed me to continue with the next text I had in mind. Almost all major religions contain mystical sects, which likely hold keys to vital knowledge that could possibly lead us to discovering an object with so called magical properties!” intimated Firouz. Maeve was beyond listening, leaning instead towards listless. Cairpra’s reaction in the library rattled her. Although the sorceress was stoic in her appearance and manner, Maeve could tell that something was bothering her. Her words about heavy options to weigh added more rocks to the pit of Maeve’s stomach. A clear solution that would solve the problem at hand seemed increasingly improbable. And she could not accept that anything to do with saving Sinbad and defeating her greatest enemy was improbable.

Maeve’s mind was spinning with the day’s research. Rather, the previous night as well as today’s research. There was no way she could sleep after the incident in the palace gardens. The incident that shall not be named. Her mind recoiled every time she thought of Rumina’s taunts about her and Sinbad’s future together, their lovemaking… she shuddered with disgust. She couldn’t possibly make him love her, could she? His heart was so strong, his mind so clever, his will so unbreakable. But Cairpra’s description of the curse rang through her ears like a fork on glass. “The caster binds with the victim’s very being,” like a parasite, worming her way into his heart… 

She shook off these dark thoughts as soon as she felt herself slipping into them, for what felt like the hundredth time since last night. Sinbad was strong, he would fight this, and he needed her to fight too. She gathered solace from this as she headed towards the Nomad for some rest. She hadn’t slept in nearly two days, and Cairpra was right, she needed to clear her head and refocus her attention to be of any use moving forwards. She wondering if perhaps Doubar and Rongar had made their way back to the ship as well, or if they were still gathering supplies for the upcoming rescue mission and blowing off steam in some disreputable part of town. Maeve didn’t relish having to admit to them that they had not yet found a solution, or even a heading for their journey. They all knew time was of the essence, and yet, they could not even figure out where to begin.

She heard a screech from above, and automatically held up her arm for Dermott to land. She greeted him by affectionately rustling the feathers on his chest, wishing more than ever that she could gather him into her arms for a true embrace. Maeve wondered briefly, if it would in fact be him to gather her into his embrace at this point, given the years that had passed since his transformation. He would no longer be the boy she remembered, but a young man, ready make his own way in world as she had done not so long ago. “One day Dermott, I will free you too,” she promised for the millionth time with a sigh. It really was time for her to start making good on her promises. If she had her way, freeing Sinbad and freeing her brother would go in hand in hand, when the one who had cursed them finally met her maker. 

Dermott did not wish to be latched to her glove however. He was restless, continuing to beat his wings and cry out. He clearly wanted her attention, had something to show her. With curiosity, Maeve held her arm out and assured him she would follow. So much for getting some sleep, she admonished. Expecting him to lead her deeper into the city or even beyond, she was surprised to see him head towards the harbour. Towards the Nomad in particular, whose mast he sat upon. Maeve suppressed a chill of fear, wondering what else could possibly have befallen this unlucky crew. 

As she walked aboard though, she immediately knew what Dermott had wanted to show her. Before she could register her shock, or wonder how it was possible, she found herself running into Sinbad’s embrace. Wrapping her arms around his neck. And kissing him breathless.


	9. Chapter 9

Sinbad was sure he would drown in the pleasure of Maeve’s sweet taste. In fact, he hoped he would, so he wouldn’t ever have to submit to his tormentor again. He didn’t dare question why his fiery sorceress was so welcoming of his touch, why the barriers they held up against each other had fallen down so suddenly. He was just determined to enjoy every second of it, because he knew it was simply too good to last. Unlike the cloying, suffocating pleasure Rumina wrought upon him, Maeve was as pure and refreshing to him as the ocean air. As their kiss deepened and their embrace became more ardent, Sinbad felt the overwhelming urge to join their bodies together, their souls soon after. He was desperate to wash away the stench Rumina had left upon him, to make him feel whole again, free to live and love as his heart demanded.

But he couldn’t take Maeve in this way. He couldn’t let his ardour and his desire for her to act as a balm for his suffering, for his failure. He couldn’t spoil the love he felt blossoming between them so tenuously, by taking her when he was not truly himself. He unwittingly recalled just the other day, when Rumina impersonated him, and tried to seduce his beautiful sorceress. How horrified he’d felt that the relationship he’d nurtured so carefully could be turned to dust by such falsehood. Never would he be so bold with a woman he cared for so differently from all the others. He pulled back from her now for that very reason. To protect her from his lust, and from the cruel woman who had laid a claim upon him. 

“Sinbad…” breathed Maeve, trying to get a hold of her bearings. “How is it… how are you here? How did you get away?” Sinbad felt his gut sour. Telling her that Rumina just let him go sounded so much like a trap, that he was ashamed to admit it. “I found a way Maeve… I always find a way. I’m the legendary Sinbad the Sailor, remember?” he smirked, willing them both to believe it. Gods, he hated lying to her. His very presence on the Nomad felt wrong, like he was an intruder, or worse, a spy planted by their mutual enemy. A gift tied up with a bow and thrown back to his crew to receive with open arms. He was determined to not make it so. He would be strong. He always was. And if he felt that Rumina would use him to hurt his crew in any way, he would throw himself overboard and let her stench be washed off of him at the bottom of the sea. 

“See how much I love you Rumina? I would rather submit to my greatest fear since childhood, drowning, rather than submit to you,” he thought with intention towards her, hoping she could hear him. He wanted her feel his hatred, to cause her pain the way she inflicted it upon him. “Duly noted sea dog,” he heard her sneer. “I’ll make sure when you come home that we share a nice, long bath to wash the stink of that peasant witch off of you. Feel free to drown yourself in there instead… so much more luxurious.” Yeah right Rumina, he thought to himself, tired of wasting his precious time on the Nomad speaking with his least favourite person. He would never consider that bedazzled hunk of rock his home.

“Are you alright Sinbad?” Maeve asked worriedly. “You seemed lost there for a minute. Did you want to talk about anything…” “I’m fine Maeve,” he interrupted, more harshly than he’d intended, shaking his head to clear his mind. “Just a bit out of sorts.” He softened. “It’s been a long day.” And night he thought, but preferred not to dwell on that at the moment. Before he could ask about the rest of the crew, he heard Doubar’s shout from across the deck. “SINBAD!” he bellowed with undisguised relief and joy. “I knew you would find a way back to us little brother! No one can make you stay anywhere against your will, don’t I know it!” he laughed. Sinbad laughed in return, as he was caught up in his brother’s embrace, but there was no mirth to it. Now he had to lie to him too. Lie to them all, as he noted Firouz’s smile, and heard him mutter, “Astonishing, truly astonishing.”

Only Rongar, it seemed, could sense something was off. He grasped Sinbad’s arm in greeting, looking into his eyes with an odd expression, as if he was unsure of who he was seeing. As always, the moor made up for his lack of speech with senses that were sharper than a panther’s. Sinbad patted him on the shoulder with his free arm. “Don’t worry my friend, I’m okay,” he willed him to believe. But Rongar continued to regard him with a serious gaze, even once their greeting had ended. 

Doubar wrapped his arm around Sinbad’s shoulder, determined not to let him go for a minute. “So, tell us brother. How did you manage to break the curse that foul witch put on you? Or did it not manage to take hold of you after all? I had my doubts, but here you are, the same brother I’ve always known,” he declared proudly. “Did you perhaps find a way to destroy the Obelisk? A hopeful possibility, which would be ideal for all of us if it were true,“ inquired Firouz. Sinbad shook his head disappointedly. Destroy the Obelisk. Damn, that would have been a good idea, had it been possible. Better than snooping desperately through Rumina’s conjuring room to grab scraps of paper he thought looked important. It seemed lately that all he was good at was failing, both himself, and the people he loved. Some ‘leader’ he was. 

“When I finally woke up, Rumina was asleep, so I used the opportunity to find a way out” lied Sinbad, the truth too deplorable to admit. “Part of me was in shock, is still in shock.” That much at least was true. Although he understood that his crew wanted to spare his life, to hold on to the hope that Rumina was bluffing, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to let him be lost to endless slumber. Surely it would be better than this half life, where he felt poison flowing through his veins, threatening to overflow into those he loved. To even consider if death would be a better alternative was wholly unlike him, and he despised it. He lived every day to its fullest, his vigorous spirit and zest for life an inspiration to those around him. But knowing what he did with Rumina, and how much further the curse would push him to her side, he felt he didn’t even deserve to stand among them, never mind lead them.

“I eventually found a magical bowl of water of some kind, that showed a vision of the Nomad. I could hardly believe my eyes! I leaned in to take a closer look, and then I fell into it somehow, and ended up here” he smiled. Gods, he should have been an actor. Doubar was beaming from ear to ear, clearly satisfied with the lack of detail, as long as the end result meant Sinbad was safe and back with his family. Firouz naturally wanted to know more about the properties of this so-called magical bowl of water, clearly hoping to prove that there was a scientific basis for his teleportation. Leave it to Firouz to invent a way to make magic obsolete, he chuckled to himself. Rongar and Maeve seemed less certain of his story, both looking at him somewhat awkwardly. Even Dermott seemed to regard him with suspicion. Seriously, even the bird was judging him? He fought the urge to go hide in his cabin in shame for the foreseeable future. 

He had to lie to them though. To spare them the guilt and worry that he was suffering because of their decision. He didn’t want to break their spirits by letting them know how very much his own was broken. And they couldn’t know that Rumina had let him come here. Had sent him here. It would be as sure a sign of loss to them as having a harpy deposit his corpse upon the deck. 

“Maeve,” he asked gently, feeling the warmth of her deep brown eyes melting his icy blue ones. “May I speak to you alone for a minute? There’s something I want to show you.” The rest of the crew seemed to find this quite amusing, sharing knowing looks and dispersing with not so silent chuckles. Given their passionate kissing upon his return however, he couldn’t really blame them. He wouldn’t take it back for the world though, he smiled to himself. Being close to her made him feel whole again. Made him feel hope. 

That hope was soon crushed as he saw Maeve’s eyes widen in surprise, then disgust, as she noticed the marks on his neck. He was grateful that she could not see the ones further down his body. Or the ones on his soul. She must have guessed how he got them, but when their eyes met, she didn’t look at him with anger or revulsion. Only pity… and sadness. That was much worse. “I hope you weren’t hurt too badly during your stay with Rumina,” she said hesitantly, and he swore he could see her eyes shining with unshed tears. He knew she blamed herself for his fate, and he couldn’t allow her to bear that burden. He grasped her hands, and pressed his forehead against hers, willing her to dispel her guilt, at the same time savouring the gentleness she so rarely showed. This vulnerable Maeve was so beautiful to him, it threatened to break his heart. Her spirit was normally indestructible, her will comparable to none. Just like him though, there was a limit to how much weight could be placed upon a person before they began to crumble. And he hated to think that he could be the cause of it.

“Never mind that now Maeve,” he told her as he pulled away, with much more resolve than he felt. He would be strong enough for them both if need be. “I have something to show you,” his eagerness to move on to other topics all too obvious. Thankfully, she didn’t press him. He knew she understood how some wounds ran too deep to speak out loud, as if uttering them would somehow give them more power than they already had. He smiled reflectively for a moment, recalling how Dim Dim had told him that very same thing on the Isle of Dawn. Yet another reason why he and his mysterious sorceress were intertwined. Perhaps one day they could heal each other, he thought wistfully.

He knew however, that unless they found a way to destroy their mutual oppressor, they would never get that chance. Rumina would consume them both, in different, but no less painful ways. He allowed this sobering thought to draw him out of his reverie, and back to the task at hand. Maeve took the papers he held out to her gingerly, surprise etched upon her delicate features. It only lasted for a moment before she fixed him with a sarcastic expression, an eyebrow raised in questioning. “I suppose you found these sitting conveniently beside Rumina’s magical water bowl of transportation then did you?” He offered her a quirky smile in return. “Of course Maeve,” he countered. “You know how things always tend to work out for me in the end. The universe and I are great friends after all” he winked, their usual banter making their dire circumstances seem far away, if only for a moment. 

She studied the page from the black magic text first, with a look of puzzlement. “I don’t recognize the language on this one,” she admitted, as disappointment fell upon both their features. “I’m sure Cairpra will though,” she added quickly, not wanted to burst the bubble of levity they had just shared. She figured that Sinbad risked a lot to get these papers, all joking aside, and she didn’t want him to think it was all for naught. 

As she turned to the handwritten notes however, she did a double take. “Sinbad!” she exclaimed with surprise. These drawings, the descriptions… do you know what you’ve found?” she inquired with excitement. He shook his head. “I didn’t get a chance to look at them. I didn’t want my theft to be too obvious.” Maeve thankfully didn’t push for details, too absorbed by the information she held. “This is exactly what we were researching in the Great Library for the past night and day. These must be Rumina’s own research notes, the trail she followed to learn of the Obelisk!” She could barely contain her elation. Her eyes shone with something Sinbad was sorely in need of. Hope.

“Take a look at these pictures,” she gestured. Sinbad could see several drawings running down the page, and onto the next sheet as well. A variety of swords, a golden ring with strange inscriptions, a glittering cloak. What were these things? Maeve sensed his confusion and continued her explanation. “This is a compilation of known magical, mythological objects from around the world. Rumina has devoted her life to the pursuit of power, just as her father did before her. They must have been gathering information on these for a while, trying to pinpoint locations and determine the specific properties of each. She has them written here beside the illustrations, see?” Sinbad saw names and descriptions of the objects in question… the sword of Hades, the Ring of Gyges, the Babr-e Bayan. The list spread across the pages he had taken, including at least thirty items by his estimation. Near the ending of the list, he saw Rumina’s newest acquisition (well, almost the newest, he reflected with irritation). The Obelisk of Isis, circled ominously in blood red ink.

Sinbad’s mind spun as he absorbed what Maeve was telling him, what he was seeing. He understood now how well planned Rumina’s taking of the Obelisk truly was. She must have been plotting her theft of it for some time. It was just bad luck that they got caught in the middle of her plans. He sensed that she would have gotten a hold of it with or without his involvement though. When Rumina wanted something, Allah take pity on the fools who got in her way. Didn’t he know it.

“This is quite the list Maeve,” Sinbad had to admit. “But I have my reservations. How many of these are actually real, and how many are just, well, myths.” Maeve was clearly unimpressed by his lack of faith. “Mind your scepticism, Firouz,” her eyes flashed with sarcasm. “Unless you’re planning to unleash the power of a thousand exploding sticks upon Rumina, I think you should try to be bit more open minded.” Sinbad couldn’t supress a sigh and roll of his eyes that did little to soften her irritation. Although he wouldn’t admit it, her found her especially attractive when her anger was piqued. Mind you, she was especially attractive to him all the time, he reflected with amusement.

With enough force to tear through the notepaper, she pointed out the Sword of Hades. “Recognize this from our little countryside jaunt on Baronia?” she challenged. How could Sinbad forget. Not only did he narrowly miss being sliced open by the Ronin turned sailor (not to mention newfound friend) Tetsu, the warlord Katta demonstrated all too effectively how real the sword’s powers truly were. If it hadn’t been for Firouz’s wind machine which dispersed Katta into formless smoke, it was unclear how they would have managed to defeat him. “And I’m sure I don’t need to convince you of the power of this lovely object over here,” she continued, pointing out his least favourite obelisk in the world.

“Fine.” Sinbad conceded, hating to back down from a good bickering session with his incorrigible firebrand. “Let’s say I agree that these objects have powers and are possibly real. What then? Many of them wouldn’t be useful enough against Rumina now that she’s apparently unmatched in her abilities. Plus, we have no idea where to even start looking for them….” He paused mid sentence, breathless with excitement. The map! He grabbed the last page from Maeve’s hand as a broad smile lit up his features. There they were. The strange coloured pinpoints he recalled seeing when he had hurriedly grabbed the map from Rumina’s conjuring room. Eager to test his theory, he looked back to the list in Maeve’s hands, satisfied that his instinct was correct. “Notice how some of the objects have coloured markings beside them?” he pointed out. “They must correspond to the same markings on the map. A legend of sorts.” No one knew maps quite like a ship captain he reflected, with a self-satisfied smirk.

Maeve’s face lit up brighter than an angel’s. “Look here… Basra has a red dot, matching the ink she circled the Obelisk with!” There were at least ten other dots upon the map to reference. She met his gaze with a sparkle of joy that he had sorely missed. It took all of his will power to not pull her into another passionate embrace, and never let her go. Her emotions were so raw, so pure, and he found them all alluring in their own way. 

“I have to bring this to Cairpra,” she told him with conviction. “This could be the missing link in our research. The locations…” He nodded to her in agreement, an unbidden pang of sadness creeping into his heart as she turned to leave. Before she did however, she grasped his arm, connecting her chocolate brown eyes with his of ocean blue. “Be careful Sinbad,” she intimated, with an expression that was far more soft than he was used to. He loved it…. loved her. “Aren’t I always?” his eyes glittered, with a playful smile. Maeve simply shook her head and rolled her eyes, a trace of regret lingering in them as she turned away. 

Careful was not really in his vocabulary though, or hers for that matter. His whole crew knew that when sailing with him, anything could happen, and it often did. Following a cryptic map seeking mythological treasure… what could possibly go wrong? Plenty, he thought, with concern for them all, but especially for her. The price of love was all too steep. As if to punctuate this thought, a gust of cold wind rustled around him, and Sinbad was sure he could hear a wicked woman laugh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter is firmly in darkfic territory. It contains a pretty graphic and disturbing sex scene, as well as mention of suicide. Reader discretion advised... definitely an M rating. Hope you'll still enjoy :) Things will get better, I promise!

“My my Sinbad, it seems you’ve been quite the bad boy, stealing from your mistress as I slept. Well, you’ll soon learn that naughty boys need to be punished,” Rumina’s voice taunted, with a lustful edge that made him recoil. His least favourite sorceress was wickedly playful indeed he reflected, as he unconsciously rubbed at one of his more prominent bite marks. “Your presence in my life is punishment enough, woman,” he spat, irritated by her clandestine spying. It seemed he couldn’t even take a breath without her knowing about it. Was it possible she could read his mind after all? “Now now dearest, don’t be nasty. What happened to the sexy sailor who warmed my bed so nicely just last night?” she giggled. Sinbad shook his head, and closed his mind to her, not wanting to engage in anymore banter, particularly of an erotic nature. He was still basking in the glow of Maeve’s sweet aura, and the dark cloud of Rumina’s ardour was threatening to suffocate it. 

“I know you desire that pathetic Celt,” she hissed, eager to press her point. “There’s no accounting for taste I suppose. But luckily for me, you don’t get much say in the matter. You’re mine, and I’m not interested in sharing my most prized possession, especially not with a barbarian wench like her.” Sinbad snapped. “What do you want Rumina?!” he shouted into the wind, grateful that there were no crewmen currently on deck to witness his outburst. She laughed gleefully. “Temper, temper, temper Sinbad. I thought you didn’t want your friends to know about our special connection just yet. You don’t want to ruin your big brother’s surprise when he receives the wedding invitation do you? I’ll make sure the food and drink are to die for….” Sinbad’s blood ran cold. “Don’t ever threaten my family Rumina,” he said icily, no additional words needed to punctuate his point. “And what exactly are you going to do about it hero? You’ve got a couple sunsets at most before you’re too far gone to worry much about him anyways. I’ll soon be all you care about until the end of your days.” 

“We’ll see about that dearest,” he threw in her face sarcastically, trying not to absorb the promise in her words. Did he really have that little time before the curse took over? This treasure hunt had better get going fast, he grimaced, trying hard not to listen to his doubt, which told him it was too little time either way. “Leave the teasing to me Sinbad. I’m much more convincing at it,” she giggled. “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t get too excited about your little sticky fingers the other day. I’m hardly worried about you taking my notes. I already got what I wanted. None of the other objects on that list were as useful to me as the Obelisk, nor will any of them make a dent in my power now. At best, your friends will manage to put up a slightly more interesting fight before I dispatch of them. I prefer it that way actually. I do so enjoy to play, as you well know” she intoned wickedly, and he was sure he felt icy fingers of wind caress his cheek. 

He took a deep breath to collect himself, as her enchanted breeze dissipated. It was none to soon, as he felt Doubar’s beefy hand slap him on the shoulder. “So brother, did you and our resident fire maiden enjoy your little chat?” he teased, trying hard to hold back his mirth. “Come now Doubar,” chastised Firouz. “I’m sure their conversation was of a purely educational nature.” Both men practically keeled over in a fit of laughter. Even Rongar allowed himself a smile, but still retained his overall somber stance. Although rattled by Rumina’s words, Sinbad was grateful for their teasing. When things seemed hopeless, he could always rely on his friends, his family, to pull him through. He would grasp onto their comradery for as long as he was able. 

“We saw the lass run off just before we arrived. She didn’t even notice us, she was in such a hurry. It was that good huh?” Doubar winked, and the gents seemed ready to buckle over in laughs once more. “Alright, alright, take it easy brother,” Sinbad interrupted. “Maeve was just headed back to the library to continue her research. Her and Cairpra are close to finding us a heading for our journey,” he pointed out with a satisfied smile. Firouz was just about to ask for more details, when Doubar waved him off. “Tell us more about it over dinner little brother. I’ve been worried so much lately that I’ve worked up quite the appetite.” “And a thirst too I’m sure,” added Sinbad, enjoying the joviality of four men who were clearly intent on putting their worries behind them for the time being.

He soon realized however, that it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. Especially when that elephant had literally squeezed the air from his lungs, and inflated them with her rotten essence. Sinbad desperately wanted to join in with his crew’s celebratory spirit at one of their favourite watering holes in town, but it was difficult to do knowing it was a lie. One that he had told to preserve their happiness for as long as he could. Two days. He couldn’t help but fixate upon Rumina’s promise. Two days until life as he knew it was over. Two days until he was bound to a woman he detested, instead of to the woman he loved. Two days until he was lost forever. 

He soon excused himself from their festivities, mumbling something about being tired, much to Doubar’s chagrin. He had no stomach for it, having forced the food and drink down like one of Firouz’s herbal remedies. This was the most sadistic part of it all… that Rumina knew she had driven an insurmountable wedge between him and those he loved. He was a starving man standing before a feast, but unable to eat. The ultimate tease. The ultimate torture. Sinbad was as lonely as her now, he laughed to himself sadly, realizing how well thought out her revenge on him truly was. Perhaps this was the real reason why she allowed him on this so called ‘excursion.’ When she impersonated him just the other day, she said that in the end, she would be his only friend. How right she appeared to be. 

Doubar was practically pulling his arm out of its socket to convince him to stay. “Don’t think for a minute I’m letting you out of my sight again little brother,” he admonished. “We’re surrounded by wine, women and song. Not to mention family. What more could you ask for? Unless you’re heading out to find your favourite Celtic lass again,” he roared with laughter. Not liking to be so firm with his brother, Sinbad nonetheless fixed him with a serious look. “Doubar please. I’m really not in the mood. I’m grateful for your concern and your festive spirit. But it’s been far too long since I’ve slept, and I want nothing more right now than to return to my ship.” 

That much was true. He craved to be aboard the Nomad, his release, his home, where the ebb and flow of the ocean always soothed his soul. To gaze up at the stars as a free man for as long as he could. To be lost in the spell of the sea, rather than in that of an evil sorceress. A life without freedom is not a life, he knew. Especially not for a sailor, who was tied to nothing but the ocean. He wished more than anything to be able to sail away from his troubles. But he was anchored in the harbour now, much as he was anchored to her. 

Doubar gave him a reluctant nod, and grudgingly released his arm. Sinbad patted him on the shoulder with a gentle smile, assuring him that all would be well. If only he could believe it himself. “Thank you, brother,” he said. “For everything… always.” Although half in the bag, Doubar looked at Sinbad strangely, as if he sensed something was amiss for the first time since he had returned. “Forever, little brother,” he replied, before saluting him with a tall tankard of ale. 

Upon returning to the Nomad, Sinbad stayed on deck for as long as he could before exhaustion hit him. He hadn’t slept since waking in Rumina’s gilded cage, which felt like a lifetime ago. He was looking forward to falling asleep while thinking of the tantalizing woman with fiery curls and an infinitely more fiery spirit, who melted into his arms not so long ago.

Sinbad soon discovered however, that there was no rest for the wicked, or evidently, for him. Rumina had promised him punishment, and she was surgically good at paying her debts as of late. That night he did indeed dream of Maeve, but he wished with his entire being that he hadn’t. She appeared in his cabin, wearing nothing but a thin shift, her sumptuous breasts, perfect hips and creamy skin making his eyes burn with desire. She seemed to glow like an ethereal being, and he wanted nothing more than to nestle her body against his and never let her go. As he moved to pull her into his arms, she placed her hands on his shoulders, and pushed him back onto the bed as she straddled him. Given that he preferred to sleep naked, she was soon greeted by his hard manhood pressing against her thighs, a fact that curved her full, pink lips into a knowing smile.

He allowed himself to enjoy exploring her like this for a few minutes, before flipping her over to give him better access to her heavenly body, wanting to touch and taste every inch of her. While Sinbad didn’t mind when a woman took charge on occasion, he much preferred to be on top. The captain in him could never fully be cast aside, he chuckled. Besides, the thought of his beautiful sorceress writhing beneath him, submitting to his pleasure, threatened to make his cock explode with anticipation.

Maeve didn’t seem to mind one bit, as she pulled his mouth onto hers in a deep kiss, wrapping her legs around his hips. With a tsk of disapproval at his bite marks, she soon made it her business to cover each of them with marks of her own, her mouth sucking sensually at them, seeking to erase the wicked memory of the woman who made them from their minds. He smiled roguishly at the action, happy to let her stake her claim on his body, as he began to the do the same to her milky white breasts. It wasn’t long before he had worked his way down to her silky folds, and eagerly lapped at them with his tongue. 

He knew he was good at pleasing women, and he wanted to please this one more than any other before. It gave him no small amount of satisfaction to feel her spasm against him as he locked her thighs in place with firm hands, nibbling and sucking at her tender flesh. The scent of her pleasure intoxicated him, and he could think of no greater ecstasy than to bury his cock inside her to the hilt and have her scream his name. Maeve seemed to feel similarly, gazing up at him with glistening brown eyes filled with lust, as she stroked his sizable length, placing it at the entrance of her swollen lips. 

He knew she was no virgin, but by Allah she was tight. And she welcomed every inch of his swollen cock into her, daring him to fuck her senseless with a lustful stare. Sinbad was more than willing to oblige, sliding himself into her with the perfect amount of friction, her juices all the lubricant they needed. Their rhythm was perfect, pleasure flowing in and out like the waves of the sea. It was everything he had imagined and more, her body seemingly made for him and him alone. How he longed to make sure his was the only one she ever wanted again. It wasn’t long before he felt her trembling with another orgasm, sure to pull him along with her in a blissful flood.

But then he felt a presence that chilled his blood, stifling the rapturous heat between him and his Celtic flame. Rumina’s long nails scratched against his shoulders, while her naked breasts pressed up against his back. One hand moved to wrap around his neck while the other dug into his chest hard enough to draw blood, as she began to whisper into his ear. “It seems your redheaded whore enjoys what you’re giving to her. Why don’t you try giving her even more?” she laughed malevolently, licking the sensitive flesh behind his earlobe. “It’s time to show this pathetic peasant who you really belong to. What you truly think of her. She’s nothing to you, and will soon be nothing at all. Do it my love. Do it for me. For us. For our future.” 

To his horror, he knew exactly what Rumina wanted, as his hands moved to press against Maeve’s elegant throat. Terror and confusion washed over him, leaving him unsure of what was dream and what was reality. Sinbad felt tears sting his eyes, a silent apology on his lips, as she stared at him in shock and betrayal. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness, willing her to know it wasn’t truly him stealing her breath away more viciously than any black magic curse. But he didn’t, because there was no denying what was plain before them. It was him, his hands breaking two hearts at once, as Rumina laughed with vicious triumph. Maeve’s warm brown eyes shed tears of regret and unimaginable hurt, as she rasped out her last word, his name. And just as death crept over her beautiful features, he shot up from his bed in the coldest sweat of his life, tears wet upon his cheeks. 

Sinbad stumbled up to the deck in disorientation and fear. He didn’t bother to dress himself fully, he was so desperate to get away, to seek the solace of the sea, to breathe the cool night air and convince himself that he could never do something like that to the woman he loved. Could he? Grief filled his heart as he realized he didn’t know. He was not himself, and he knew it. He could feel himself slipping into Rumina’s grasp, while desperately trying to fight her with sheer willpower alone. He was so stubborn, he would deny he was in trouble even if a barracuda was feasting upon his arm. But the time for false bravado was over. His logic, his heart told him that he needed to protect the ones he loved at all costs. Even, and perhaps especially, from himself. 

Rumina’s message to him was clear. He laughed with bitterness as he finally realized why she had let him come back. He had known there was a catch. That sorceress was many things, but kind was not one of them. She cared for his happiness as much as a lion cared for a kudu. She wanted him to know that she was the one in control. To have a glimpse into his future once the curse was complete. And to feel the pain and powerlessness of it now, before he was too far gone to care. This wasn’t just about pleasure for her. It was about punishment for him. His soul was dying a despicable death far worse than the one he gave her father. And she reveled in his realization of it.

Sinbad made up his mind. This was what being a hero was truly about, sacrificing for those you love. He would do what his crew could not, he would end the curse before his abhorrent nightmare had a chance to come true. He approached the railing and said a silent prayer to Allah for forgiveness, as he prepared to give himself to the sea that had always threatened to consume him. 

To his horror and confusion however, he found his legs were unable to move. What the devil? In a panic, he wondered if his mind was so perturbed by the idea of suicide, that he couldn’t muster the will to follow through. But then another thought, a far worse one crossed his mind. Sinbad reached for his dagger to test his theory, intending to plunge it through his aching heart. But his hand was unable to grasp it, unable to even remove it from its sheath. 

In that moment, he knew with sick certainty that it was too late. Rumina wouldn’t let him. There was no way he was going to escape her, even through death. She had lied to him about her presence in his mind. She knew his thoughts. She had invaded them, and would control him soon after. She had truly begun to consume him.

Finally, he felt it. The pain in his chest squeezing the life and breathe from him as he did to Maeve in his cursed dream. The pain that he would soon inflict on those he loved if his crew were unable to defeat their oppressor. He had to get as far away from them as possible, as soon as possible, to protect them from the monster he was unwittingly becoming. “My poor sailor, does it hurt to be so far away from me?” taunted Rumina with false sympathy, as he stumbled backwards onto the deck. “My, my, I told you that you’d begin to crave my touch, but I never expected such a formidable hero such as yourself to fall so easily into my arms.” She giggled with satisfaction, and although she had not yet appeared, he could well imagine the smug look she wore upon her face. “It seems as though you’ve had plenty of excitement on your excursion today. I’d say it was quite an…. educational experience for you overall. But now it’s time to come home.” A swirling mist descended upon the deck and she appeared before him, her hand outstretched. 

Sinbad’s sea blue eyes were pure ice as he fixed his stare upon her. “I despise you more than anything on this earth Rumina,” he rasped out with bitter conviction. “I want you to know that now, and remember it always. Whenever you think you got what you always wanted, you will know that it’s a lie.” She stared back at him with undisguised cruelty. “And what a beautiful lie it will be,” she said, as venom glittered in her eyes. Filled with hatred, but resigned to his choice, Sinbad did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He took her hand.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A glimmer of hope :)

Maeve could hardly contain her excitement as she ran towards the Great Library, eager to share their discovery with her new mentor. The bustling, crowded streets of Basra were dissipating with the setting sun, as a pink hued dusk enveloped the city in warm light. Sunsets were especially beautiful to those who lived upon the sea, but Maeve hadn’t the time to indulge in such carefree admiration this evening. She was sure that the key to what they needed lay within Rumina’s stolen notes, and she held onto this hope like a camel did to water.

Maeve exhaled a sigh of relief as she saw that Cairpra was still where she had left her, deep in thought, various tomes stacked neatly to the side of her.  
“I was wondering when you would return, my dear,” she said abruptly, sensing Maeve’s presence before she’d had time to offer a greeting. So much like Dim Dim she chuckled to herself, her admiration for the elder sorceress growing with each encounter. 

“I have something to show you… something that I think will help finalize our plans, so we can begin our journey at last,” Maeve beamed with pride. She handed over the papers to Cairpra to examine, no explanations needed clarify the information they contained. 

“Where did you get these Maeve?” she asked carefully, after looking them over for only a few moments. 

“Sinbad got them,” she clarified. “He took them from Rumina’s cavern before he escaped,” she paused. “It’s a long story, and personally, I think it lacks a few details, but…” 

“He’s back then is he?” interrupted Cairpra, a dullness to her voice that betrayed her disquieted feelings on the matter. Maeve was caught off guard, not expecting such a cold acknowledgement of her Captain’s return. 

“Yes,” she replied. “He was on board the Nomad when I returned from the library. Dermott came to get me. I could hardly believe it myself, that it was possible…” 

“For him to be sent back by Rumina,” Cairpra finished for her, with grim conviction. 

Maeve’s mouth ran dry. She had no words to respond to her mentor’s assertion, unwilling to believe it. Unwilling to accept it, but at the same time, knowing it must be true. She’d felt at the time that Sinbad was lying. Even ridiculed him about it during their bantering session on deck. Not to mention, he had those hideous marks upon his neck that she was sure meant Rumina had put her filthy paws upon him yet again. The combination of indignation and guilt she’d felt upon seeing them continued to burn a hole in her stomach. She wasn’t angry at him really. How could she be? They had left him to be her toy after all. And Maeve knew all to well how much that bitch loved to play. No death would be too cruel for that woman. 

But she hadn’t pressed the matter. He was there, and the joy it woke in her made her logic, her instincts, fall to the wayside. Sinbad had clearly not wanted to share what happened to him, either out of pride, fear, or a desire to pretend it had never occurred. Maeve sighed with frustration, not sure who she was more upset at. It was so like Sinbad to do that. To hide his suffering in order to preserve his persona as the hero, an identity that gave him dignity and purpose. To safeguard the feelings and well being of others at the expense of his own. She should have known better.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself Maeve,” Cairpra comforted. “I know you love him. It’s hard to see the truth when our judgement is clouded by such strong emotions.” Maeve wanted to interject, but really, she didn’t know what to say. She did love him. Was falling in love with him, despite herself. Despite her mission to restore her brother, to defeat Rumina, to locate Dim Dim. How could she allow herself to succumb to such a distraction? Beautiful as it was.

“I was in love once too you know. I still am, though old love such as ours has a slightly different character. One which I’m sure you will know some day too,” Cairpra chuckled. “I miss him quite a lot,” the elder sorceress sighed, and Maeve sensed that was a gross understatement to say the least. 

“We vowed to find him… our entire crew is committed to doing so. He means much to me as well, and to Doubar and Sinbad. We will search across the seven seas for him, into other dimensions if we must,” she assured her. 

Cairpra smiled kindly. “I know you will, my dear. He and I are blessed to have such young spirits with strong hearts and unrivaled bravery at our disposal.” 

There was no time for such sweet musings however, which they both well knew. “Back to the matter at hand,” redirected Cairpra, ever stoic despite the burdens she carried. “Maeve, while it is fortuitous that we have this information straight from the lion’s den as it were, we must assume that Rumina is aware we are in possession of it,” she warned. 

Maeve balked at this, her stomach dropping at the implication. “Sinbad would never tell her our plans. He must have gone through great pains to obtain it and manage to bring it to us in the first place.” Although he would never admit it, she admonished. The proud charlatan. 

“Maeve, my child, you must know that Sinbad is not himself. I know it is hard to accept, but put your feelings aside and trust your logic. You know enough about the nature of magic to know this to be true. He is cursed. Beholden to Rumina until we can find a means to undo it, and to defeat her. He is no longer our ally, soon to become our enemy. I pray we will find what we are looking for before then, but his time is limited,” Cairpra ascertained, somberly, but nonetheless firm. 

Maeve swallowed the lump in her throat, and willed her heart to sew itself back together again. “How much time?” she dared to ask, afraid to hear the answer.

Cairpra fixed her with a serious stare. “Not long. Another day or two at most.” She sighed. “It largely depends on the will of the person being cursed. Some fall almost immediately, others fight until it consumes them. But it is an inevitability. Already now, you cannot trust him. It would be best if he did not hear of our plans moving forward.” 

Maeve shook her head violently, furious tears threatening to fall. She wanted to kill Rumina more in that moment that she ever had. So much anger and hurt clouded her vision that she was sure flames would sprout from her eyes. “How can we just leave him out of our plans? By the Goddess, he’s our Captain! He’s ready to lead the mission himself, and pity the fool who would dare try to stop him,” she countered, every bit the firebrand that she was. Mules were substantially less stubborn. 

Cairpra looked at her sadly, and stood to place her hands gently upon Maeve’s arms. “Listen to me, my young and spirited sorceress,” she intimated, calm but resolute. “Sinbad will not be leading your mission. He will likely not even be on the Nomad when you return.” 

“No,” Maeve shook her head once more, refusing to believe it. “He is strong, you said so yourself, he will be there, he’s ready to fight for his freedom…” 

“Rumina sent him Maeve,” Cairpra interrupted sharply, needing her to understand and move on from her denial. “And she will take him back once she gets what she wanted. Be grateful for that my child, so you will not have to watch him fall. This is beyond a matter of will now. There are some battles even heroes cannot win. It has become our battle instead. Your battle. The best way you can help him, the best way you can love him, is to do what he cannot. Find the stone. Defeat Rumina. Free him, free your brother, free the Near East. And preferably do it before she sends him to kill you.” 

Maeve stared at Cairpra with a combination of disbelief, horror and grief. It was an overwhelming mixture of emotions that she hoped to never feel again. She refused to believe that Sinbad could kill her, but her mentor was so wise, so learned. She understood things Maeve had not yet had a chance to experience or to know. Maeve may know suffering and loss. She carried her own fair share of skeleton’s in her linen chest, thinking sadly about her own cursed brother. But her knowledge of the intricacies of magic, particularly of black magic, was limited. She turned away from Cairpra and was lost in her thoughts for a few minutes, processing what she had just been told, beginning to accept their change of plans, when she suddenly paused. 

“Cairpra, you said something about a stone. What stone?” 

Her mentor smiled with a sly look in her eyes. “Well my dear sorceress, I thought you’d never ask.”


	12. Chapter 12

It was not long before the crew was assembled on the deck of the Nomad, in various states of coherency. Doubar had imbibed more than he normally did due to his celebratory spirit, which would soon be shattered once he learned of Sinbad’s situation, Maeve thought wistfully. Maybe she should glaze over the details with him, to spare the gentle giant from the pain of knowing he had lost his brother once again. That they had never really had him back in the first place. And that it was going to be far more painful the next time they saw him. 

“By the Goddess, I’m just as bad as he is,” Maeve admonished internally, recognizing in herself the same penchant for white lies as her Captain. They were so alike sometimes, it was no wonder they bickered like ‘an old married couple,’ as Cairpra had teased just a few days ago. After all, the most frustrating person to argue with was yourself.

Firouz was slightly tipsy as well, but had sobered in both mood and countenance when he saw Maeve and Cairpra, who were donning such somber expressions, that they looked ready to judge the crew’s very worthiness to pass through the gates of paradise. Rongar’s firm gaze added additional gravity to the situation, communicating all that needed to be said about the change in tone. Even Dermott seemed particularly foreboding this night, his keen eyes mirroring the concern of his un- feathered comrades, but also sparkling with rapt attention. It being past midnight, the moon was high in the sky, and glowed down upon the Nomad with an otherworldly luminescence, suiting the ominous plans they were about to discuss. 

The two sorceresses stood near the main mast, adorned in their evening cloaks, the eerie light lending them the appearance of soothsayers. Upon leaving the library, Maeve had sent Dermott to gather the Nomad crew as hastily as possible. The two women knew all too well how time was of the essence, and no amount of grog was going to stand in the way of liberating the Near East, along with its famed protector. 

“Listen lass, and milady,” Doubar drawled to the two women. “I don’t know what traditions you magic folk follow, but where I come from, sending a hawk to act as carrier pigeon in the middle of a crowded pub is not the best way to end an evening of imbibement. He nearly scared the devil out of me, as well as half the patrons!”

“Doubar,” Firouz placated, “I’m sure these fine and respectable women would not have resorted to such a measure, unless it was a matter of the utmost importance. Cairpa is after all, a resident of Basra, and is well aware of the customs and standards of etiquette in its establishments. And Dermott, while admittedly imposing in appearance, posed little actual danger to those assembled.”

“Thank you Firouz, for your kind and perceptive words,” continued Cairpra, eager to press on. “Time is indeed of the essence, which is why we sought the most expedient way to gather you from your evening’s festivities. The Nomad will need to leave immediately to retrieve an item upon which our success is hinged. Unless we obtain it, and wield it to stand against Rumina by sunset in two days time, many lives, including the life of one who is most precious to you, will be lost.”

“What item, whose life?” countered Doubar, his alcohol-soaked mind fueling his confusion, and subsequently, his ire. “Would someone kindly go wake Sinbad? If we’re planning a journey, our Captain had best be here to chart it out, beauty sleep be damned… he doesn’t need it anyways, right lass?” he slurred to Maeve with a lewd wink. Maeve visibly balked at this, and had it not been for the bitter circumstances they faced, she was quite certain that a hangover would be the least of his problems. Instead, she offered him a look of awkward sympathy, finding the words hard to form, their meaning poison on her tongue.

“Sinbad isn’t sleeping Doubar.” She paused. “He’s gone.” The crew stared at her in stunned silence, Cairpra offering her a nod, urging her to say what needed to be said. 

“What do you mean gone lass? He was just with us a few hours ago. Came back here for a rest… go down to his cabin, you’ll see soon enough.”

“He’s not there Doubar,” Maeve said more firmly, willing the tears that threatened to form away. Doubar needed her to be strong. At least one of them had to be. “We don’t have time for this. If you care about your brother, which we both know you do, you’ll listen to what we have to say, and get the ship ready.”

“The Devil I will woman! What has gotten in to you? First with your damn bird, now with your mad claim that Sinbad has mysteriously vanished. Let me guess, next you’re going to demand to steer the ship, drawing your name in the water again while following some absurd visions…”

Maeve was spared the effort of trying not to strangle the big man, by the furious gesturing of Rongar, who had just emerged from below deck. “Doubar…. He says Sinbad isn’t there… impossible…” stuttered out Firouz. 

The first mate was thoroughly incensed, not to mention drunk, a terrible combination under the best of circumstances. “What the hell kind of game are you all playing at tonight? I’ve had it with the lot of you. I’m going to get my brother myself…”

“Go if you must, but you will be wasting your time. Time that we don’t have” asserted Cairpra, her austere presence seeming to snap Doubar out of his rageful trance. “As I told Maeve earlier this evening, Sinbad is unable to lead this venture. It is time for you to listen, to prepare, and to depart as soon as possible.

“Where is he then? Where is my brother?!” Doubar choked, his face beginning to redden for an altogether different reason than anger. 

Cairpra was a mask of solemnity. “Back to where he came from, Doubar. Back to the one who cursed him.” 

His grief and denial were all to familiar to Maeve, a wound that bled over the deck of the Nomad with nothing to staunch the flow. “But he was fine…. he told us what happened, he escaped… he supped with us… he was himself, maybe a bit tired, but still…” 

“We have to go Doubar,” Maeve said, channeling a strength and bravery worthy of the Nomad’s captain. She owed it to Sinbad to help his brother overcome his grief, to motivate the crew to action. He himself was a man of action, of steadfast determination. They may be without their captain, but his spirit emanated from every inch of the ship, and most especially from within the hearts of those who followed him. Those who loved him. He needed them now, and they would follow his lead.

“Rumina sent him back to toy with him, and with you. He was never meant to stay. She hopes to break your spirit by breaking his. Do not let her be right” intimated Cairpra, her words the biting truth. Silence had never been so empty as it was upon the Nomad’s deck. “Are you ready now to hear of our plans? The crew offered her crestfallen nods, still hardly recovered from their realization of Rumina’s duplicity.

“The object you seek is called the Cintamani Stone. It hails from narratives in the Far East and India, but is most intimately tied to the religion of the Buddhists. A wish fulfilling gem of extraordinary power, it is believed to be a gift from the stars themselves. Most narratives say that the one who wielded the stone, would be granted knowledge of all time and space, and thus the power to rule over the entire world. Possibly even, to achieve immortality, and be elevated to the status of the Gods. In fact, the Buddha himself is said to have been the original owner of the stone.” 

The first mate’s patience was running exceedingly thin, and Maeve knew that this apocryphal history lesson did little to soothe his hangover, his grief, or his anger. “Of all the malarkey. A magical stone that grants wishes and turns men into Gods. Why don’t we just go look for Aladdin’s golden lamp? Shouldn’t take us too long. Baghdad is just around the corner.” 

“While I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of this Cintamani Stone, or its alleged powers Doubar, I would most certainly conjecture that Aladdin’s magical lamp is unlikely to exist, being mostly a beloved bedtime story for children,” chided Firouz.

“Gentlemen please, may I finish?” Cairpra interjected, which was in truth, quite fortunate for the guileless scientist who was undoubtedly stirring the hornet’s nest that was Doubar’s temper.

With a nod of irritation, the sorceress continued. “Buddha, having experienced the stone’s incredible powers, knew that if it fell into the greedy hands of men, it would inevitably result in the world’s destruction. Wars would endlessly be fought to possess it, and the one who wielded it would be consumed with their desire for power, rather than a desire to nurture mankind towards a peaceful, productive state of being. Cairpra paused. Does this sound at all familiar to you?”

“Rumina” said Maeve, no further elaboration being required. A world ruled by her selfish nature would inevitably fall to darkness. Only those who sought to appease her, those with a similar lust for power and a decided lack of principles, would be granted it. Those who cared for the well being of the people and stood in her way, those like Sinbad, would be silenced. Were already being silenced, Maeve reflected sadly. 

“Thus, in his wisdom, Buddha placed limits on its powers,” Cairpra asserted. “Rather than grant endless wishes, boundless knowledge and immortality, anyone who subsequently possessed the stone would receive a wish. One wish, made in the spirit of peace and goodness. As a further means of protection, Buddha hid it away in a mystical land called Shambhala, accessible only to those whose hearts were pure, and free from malevolent and selfish intent. The exact location of Shambala is undetermined, or at least, was undetermined, until recently. Your brave Captain managed to secure a map with its apparent location.”

“Apparent?!” Doubar seethed. “My brother’s life requires more certainty than apparent. You yourself said that time is of the essence. Do we truly have no better option than galivanting on a wild goose chase, seeking a magical stone hidden away in some fairy tale land that we ‘apparently’ know the location of?”

“It appears Doubar, that we do not,” answered Firouz sheepishly, as Maeve prepared to defend the poor scientist from the tidal wave of rage that the normally gentle giant was sure to unleash. 

She was blessedly spared the effort by Cairpra’s sharp retort. “Do you take me for a talentless hack Doubar? One who gazes into seeing balls and reads fortunes from a deck of pretty cards? Grant me a little faith please, if only for the sake of my dear husband whom you love and respect. Surely he would not marry a charlatan?” she rebuked. “My own sources, gathered from the shelves of the esteemed and reputable library of Basra, pointed to a similar location. Rumina and Turok’s stolen notes only serve to strengthen my conjecture. The location on the map before you is as close to the truth that you will get.” 

“Leave it to Sinbad to be an adventurer, even when in captivity,” reflected Firouz, with a timid smile. Maeve could not help but return it. He may be fighting a losing battle, but their Captain’s sword, and instincts, remained ever sharp. 

Evidently tired of the endless commentary and ready for action, Rongar signed a question to the group. “He’d like to know where exactly we’re meant to be going,” translated Firouz. “A logical question my friend, and quite relevant as well.” 

Maeve produced the map from her satchel and handed it to the men to consider. “I’m nowhere near as skilled at map reading as my brother,” admitted Doubar, his words thick with supressed emotion. “But it appears that we must seek a remote island between the Bay of Bengal and the Andaman Sea. By all estimates, it would take at least a month of sailing and a skilled navigator to reach it. Rumina will have taken over the Continent before we even make it past India!”

Cairpra offered him a knowing smile in return. “Once again, Doubar, have faith. I have a way to get the Nomad to where you seek by midday tomorrow.” 

“Incredible!” exclaimed Firouz. “Do you possess one of those magical water bowls Sinbad discovered in Rumina’s lair, that was able to transport him to the deck of the Nomad just by peering into it? I would very much like to understand the principals behind it, to see if science could possibly be involved with its overall function.”

“Unfortunately not Firouz,” chuckled Cairpra. “Primarily because such a thing does not exist, except in the rather colourful white lies of your Captain. I do however, know a spell that will create an endless wind to propel your ship forward with unparalleled speed, as though through the eye of a storm.”

Doubar’s scoff was loud enough to wake the dead. “Great, more magic spells. This journey seems to come straight out of the pages of a children’s book. One that I’m not particularly fond of,” he grumped. 

Maeve balked as a sudden thought came to her. “Will you not be coming with us?” she inquired of her mentor, her pillar of strength in all this destitution. 

Cairpra shook her head stoically. “The spell will require all of my strength to propel you there and back in time for Rumina’s intended seizure of Basra. 

Maeve had too many questions, and too little confidence in her abilities to take this pronouncement well. “But how do you know when she will attack? Or that Basra will be her first planned conquest? Surely Baghdad would be the more logical choice. It was the Caliph after all, who commissioned the death of her father!” 

The elder sorceress fixed Maeve with a gaze worthy of a prophet. “Because WE are in Basra, Maeve. You and I, the Nomad crew. Along with any sorcerer worth his salt. Her greatest threats lined up all in a row, ready to bear witness to the true extent of her power. The less time we have to prepare, the better for her.” The logic of her words rang truer than a Church bell. Baghdad was a pheasant roasting on a spit, just waiting to be devoured once her only real challenge was dispatched. 

“Then why not attack immediately. Why wait at all? She must know that every passing minute allows us more time to mobilize against her,” Doubar countered, his frustration all too plain.

In that moment, with sick certainty, Maeve realized the answer. Why Cairpra was so sure of the time they had to retrieve the stone. To meet Rumina’s attack. 

“Sinbad.” She let his name resonate in the silence that followed, wishing with every fiber of her being that he could hear it, willing him to know they had not given up on him.

“What about my brother?” Doubar flinched, anxiety lacing his words. 

Maeve could barely stomach the thought of telling him, but knew it was best if the bandage on their mutual wounds was removed with haste. “She is waiting for Sinbad to stand with her Doubar,” she knew. “For us to see that we have lost, and for it to be the last thing he knows before he is consumed.” She could not stop a tear from rolling down her cheek, hastily wiping it away, ashamed of her weakness. Rumina’s cruelty was despicable in its intent, brilliant in its execution. An Opus befitting a master composer, unleashed at the perfect time for her ascension to power. Since when had that spiteful trollop become so shrewd? 

Maeve was sure that the crew would pour forth an endless barrage of denial, but it seemed her pronouncement had shaken their spirits and their nerves into a depressed silence for the time being. Maybe it was Cairpra’s steel gaze, rigid in its affirmation of Maeve’s words, that brokered no argument. Maybe, she scoffed internally, Doubar’s hangover had finally gotten the best of him, and he couldn’t think of anything meaningful to retort. Or maybe, she thought sadly, they knew deep down that she was right, and that nothing they said would change that horrendous fact. 

“Time to get this ship moving then,” sniffed Doubar, unable to hide his pain any longer. She didn’t know whose tears were more uncharacteristic between the two of them, but the hand he placed upon her shoulder in solidarity, gave her strength in her grief. To knock Rumina off of her wicked pedestal. To avenge those who suffered from her selfishness. To be strong enough to save the ones they loved.

“Cairpra,” Maeve approached the elder sorceress. “Once we come back with the stone, I’m assuming you’ll wish to have enough power to challenge Rumina’s…” 

“No Maeve, I will not.” She smiled gently. “You will.” 

Maeve was stricken into silence, a well of fear and questioning ready to spill forth. 

“The spell to transport your ship will drain me too thoroughly to stand against her properly,” she clarified. “Besides, the stone will only grant a wish to the one who is worthy enough to obtain it. That person is you. The power will be yours, and yours alone.”

Maeve shook her head, unable to accept her assertion. “I’m not ready Cairpra. I’m still learning. Rumina has trained since birth. She has always been more powerful than me, and even if we are evenly matched…” she let her statement carry on the wind. 

Cairpa rested her hand on her shoulder, yet another person willing her to have more strength than she believed existed within herself. “Rumina is not without her weaknesses Maeve. You may lack confidence, experience, but Rumina lacks real purpose. Her mind is clouded with her desire to have the world at her feet. Consumed by her love of winning. With pettiness, with greed. She wields power with anger, with the desire to hurt and to satisfy her whims. You however, wield it with dignity, with justice, with the desire to help, and to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Fueled by the most powerful of motivators. Love.” She paused. “And I don’t mean just for your dashing Captain,” she said pointedly, her gaze turning towards the Nomad crew. Towards Dermott. “Never underestimate its power.” 

Maeve allowed the words to sink into her skin, hoping to absorb Cairpra’s assuredness, her belief in her, right down into her very bones, and deeper still…. into her soul. The elder sorceress looked upon her in kindness, understanding the weight she must feel, knowing how much she had to lose, how much they all had to lose should Maeve be unable to meet Rumina’s challenge.

“Destiny is both a burden and a gift Maeve. Rumina made an enemy of you far before she thought you could be the means to her undoing. When she cursed your brother, she woke a power within you that you may never have had the chance to know. She created the means to her own destruction, through her own carelessness and pettiness. It’s finally time for her to know it,” she smiled with unwavering certainty, as she drew the younger sorceress into an embrace. 

“It’s also time to raise the sails men!” shouted Doubar. “Rongar, lift anchor! Firouz, help the men tighten down anything that may decide to go flying away in a magical hurricane. Let’s get this cursed treasure hunt underway, so I can watch our Celtic lass return that vile witch back to the hell she came from.” 

An exotic adventure, something the crew would normally relish. But there was no vibrancy in their manner as the Nomad left the harbour, not even when Cairpra’s enchanted wind began circling them with ferocity, affording them the speed of the Gods themselves. This would be the first time they ventured out without their beloved Captain, the man who inspired them to greatness. Who made them believe they could achieve whatever they willed despite impossible odds. As if that wasn’t enough, the stakes were higher than ever before. His fate, and the fate of millions hinged on their success. Needless to say, their spirits had never been lower. 

Which is why as Cairpra held her arms upwards to will her hurricane forth, she was filled with a greater guilt than they knew. A burden that she could not share with them, if they were to have any hope of success. There was something she had not told Maeve about the papers Sinbad had taken. Specifically, the paper he had torn from the black magic text. Its cryptic words confirmed her greatest fears, containing the means to break Maeve’s already fragile heart. 

The curse was not reversible. When Rumina stole his breath, she stole his life, plain and simple. He was only alive because her essence was keeping him alive. And if she removed it, or perished herself, so too would he.

Cairpra sighed deeply, her sadness for them all immeasurably deep. There was perhaps another way around the curse, but it would be uncertain. And uncertainty had its own burdens, especially when the results were so important to get right. It was best the crew not focus on this hardship right now, while their wits and their strength were already being held so tenuously together by their hope for his life, his freedom, and their future. The fate of too many hung in the balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cintamani stone is an actual mythological object from Hindu and Buddhist tradition. There are varying accounts of its power, but most agree that it came from space, and provides knowledge of all the cosmos, the means to true enlightenment, and endless wishes. Of course, all of this power would be too easy of a solution in the context of this story, so I took a little bit of artistic liberty in terms of its limitations lol.
> 
> Mythology states that Buddha did at one point hold the stone, and that it is hidden away in the land of Shambala, a paradise that only the most enlightened souls can reach. The location of Shambala is theorized to be somewhere near Tibet, at the base of the Himalayan mountains. But given the time constraints the crew faces in this story, and the fact that they are sailors primarily, I invented a cryptic island that is roughly in the right location in terms of sea proximity. I’m a big Indiana Jones fan, so learning a bit about mythological treasure was too much fun! Hope you enjoyed it too 😊


	13. Chapter 13

“A ship isn’t meant to travel so fast,” griped Doubar. “I can barely tell where to steer to avoid being fileted on some unfriendly rocks, never mind adjust the heading so we don’t blow past this godforsaken island.” 

Yet another reason to miss Sinbad, reflected Maeve. The first mate made an especially grumpy captain even under the best of circumstances, which didn’t involve racing against time to obtain a mythological treasure in the hopes of freeing his brother from becoming the prized pet of the Near East’s most noxious aspiring Empress. She supposed she couldn’t blame him really. The situation was bleak to the say the least.

Maeve pondered Cairpra’s words about the stone, about her role in all of this. ‘Destiny is both a burden and gift’… that it certainly was. She had devoted her life to hunting Rumina. Training, preparing, waiting for the day she would be strong enough to avenge her brother. To allow Dermott to live the life he so undeniably deserved to. To free countless others from the whims of a selfish witch. But now that the moment was here, she was filled with a feeling she hated to admit… fear. Fear that she was not yet strong enough. That even with the stone’s powers she would not be an adequate match for Rumina’s power. Fear that she would fail Dermott, fail the multitude of lives that were relying on her to exhibit the strength she felt so uncertain of. And worst of all, fear of facing the man she loved, knowing he was no longer her ally, knowing that unless she defeated his cruel Mistress, that he would spend the rest of his days in all encompassing servitude to the person he hated most in this world. 

The omnipotent wind swirled around her, almost hypnotizing in its speed and purpose, as it whipped her hair with unceasing ferocity. Dwelling was an endless loop of pain and doubt she knew all too well, so she forced her mind on to more productive thoughts. The Cintamani stone itself was quite the mystery. An object that was capable of thinking in a way, of being able to judge if someone was worthy enough to possess it, and benefit from its powers.

“A wish made in the spirit of peace and goodness,” Maeve couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed the universe wasn’t infinitely turned against the poor Nomad crew after all. Rumina had discovered the stone, even went so far as to identify its location, only to learn that she could never use it. What an unfortunate waste of time for her, she thought smugly. And what a wonderful stroke of good fortune for them. Maybe the Buddhists with their belief in Karma knew something about the way of things after all.

Shambhala itself, the cryptic island paradise which housed the stone, was apparently also accessible only to those whose hearts were pure, and ‘free from malevolent, selfish intent.’ Maeve wondered curiously if those who didn’t fit that description were unable to find it, or if they were simply unable to reach the shoreline. And if not, were there safeguards in place to protect the island from would-be interlopers? 

They would soon find out, she shuddered, hoping that her incurably stubborn temper, and Doubar’s overwhelming love of wine and woman weren’t sufficient cause for them to be denied entry. Or whatever other vices the rest of the crew indulged in during their shore leave and in their private lives. She couldn’t deny that they had all done their fair share of killing and hurting in their lifetimes. She prayed they would still be eligible to claim the wish however, as she was firm in her belief that such violence was always done for honourable reasons, and not due to selfishness or a lust for power. Cairpra must have felt this too, otherwise she would never have suggested they pursue this option. Regardless of their opinions on the matter however, judgement was coming for them, and they would know how they measured up soon enough.

As soon as Maeve contemplated getting some sleep, hoping to recover some energy and soothe her hammering heart, she heard shouts announcing land. That was one hell of a storm she chuckled, marvelling at how Cairpra’s wind was able to transport them south of the Indian coast and right back up towards Thailand by mid-afternoon.

“Take a look at the shoreline Maeve!” bubbled Firouz, handing her his magnoscope, eager as usual to show off one of his favourite (and most useful) inventions. As she peered through the lens, she couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the landscape before them. Water clearer than Venetian glass danced upon a shore littered with diamond white sand, melting seamlessly into a forest painted with more shades of green than she knew existed. Paradise indeed, she reflected, praying that what they found in person was as lovely as what they saw from the ship. Doubar gave the command to drop anchor, and ushered Firouz, Rongar and herself into the longboats to join him. It seemed that Shambala was accepting so far of the Nomad’s proximity to its shores, and Maeve beseeched the Gods that when they touched their feet to the diamond sand, they wouldn’t melt into a flesh coloured pool to be washed away with the morning tide.

Blessedly, the sand was softer than flour, glittering with an otherworldly luminescence that was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It was as though moonlight itself had been ground into dust and scattered along the beach. Firouz was eager to take a sample in one of his jars to study for ‘scientific curiosity’, but Doubar was less than enthused with this idea.

“I’m more concerned with saving my brother than collecting fairy dust. You’d figure the opportunity to examine an ancient stone with untold mystical properties would be enough scientific curiosity for one day,” he grumbled with irritation.

Firouz reluctantly acquiesced, likely due to Rongar’s signing to avoid upsetting the understandably touchy man, as well as potentially touchy Buddhist deities.

Maeve released Dermott to fly above the thick and exotic looking trees, to see if he could find them a heading. The island was not very large according to their map, barely a speck in comparison to other islands along the Andaman Sea, but the terrain appeared to be un-traversed, which made sense given its alleged mystical barriers. “Great,” complained Doubar once more. “Now I get the pleasure of exhausting my sword arm cutting back this godforsaken overgrowth.”

As they passed underneath the canopy of trees however, it appeared his misgivings were for naught. The vegetation was notably sparse and low growing, the floor littered with a plethora of colourful mushrooms and fungus that Maeve was sure they’d have to hold Firouz back from trying to collect. In this strange, forbidding place, she felt a sick, suffocating heat that she was unwholly unused to. Unlike the sharp and unrelenting sun of the Arabian Continent, this heat was dark and damp, and seemed to hang upon her skin, making her very breath feel laboured. Could this be part of the magical safeguards that the island employed to protect its precious treasure?

“It’s called a rainforest,” supplied Firouz, answering the question on everyone’s minds. “I’d always hoped to experience one for myself one day. Although assuredly I wish it had been under better circumstances,” he hastily added, catching a warning glance from the ever-tactful Moor.

“Why does it feel like the devil’s personal sauna?” wheezed Doubar, a man of his larger constitution understandably burdened by the thickness of the air, and lack of easy oxygen.

“Rainforests are so named due to their high levels of rainfall, which I’m almost confident we’ll have the chance to experience during our travels within,” the scientist cheerfully affirmed.

“Great,” grumped the interim captain in return. “At least there’ll be something to cool me off in this sickly hell hole.”

“Pardon me Doubar, but it’s unlikely that you’ll feel much of the rainfall as actual droplets given our location at the forest floor level. The trees high up in the canopy will absorb and wick away most of the water with their waxy foliage, leaving us relatively dry, with the exception of our own sweat of course,” he clarified.

Doubar was fit to be tied. “Figures. We have to search the world’s most unpleasant forest to find the most cryptic of treasures to save my brother and countless others from the most vile of witches. For once, I’d like to engage in a quest that doesn’t involve shedding years off of my life in stress and sweat!”

Maeve sighed. “Doubar please, you’re whining is getting us no closer to finding the stone, nor is it helping us keep a low profile.”

“Low profile from what woman, parrots, chimpanzees!?” he gestured to the tropical creatures staring down at them as though irritated by their very presence. “You heard Cairpra as well as I. Only those with hearts that are ‘pure, and free from malevolent or selfish intent’ can even enter this godforsaken place, so what exactly should we be worried about noticing us….”

Doubar was struck into silence as one of Rongar’s dirks whizzed past his head and embedded itself into the forehead of the ugliest looking gorilla Maeve had ever seen. Or what appeared to be a gorilla on first glance, but was most certainly not.

Too awestruck by the horrific creature to thank Rongar properly for saving his life, Doubar moved to stand in a defensive formation with the rest of the crew, scanning their surroundings for more attackers. Maeve found it hard to breathe once more, and it wasn’t just because of the cloying heat of the rainforest bottom. Creating a perimeter around them were at least five creatures with muscles enough to make Doubar look like a rag doll. They were like men but not… hollow eyes staring out from dead, grey skin, clothed in tattered rags of different styles and materials, many of which Maeve had only seen in books about distant lands. They moved like gorillas on all fours, hunched over, animalistic, but with too much anger to be anything but human. And they held weapons. A selection of knives, arrows, swords and clubs shone in the dim light, which they stood to manipulate with their upper body. These beings were neither animal nor human. They were monsters, and their soulless gaze said all that needed to be said about their intentions towards the Nomad crew.

Maeve barely had time to unsheathe her sword as one of the beasts bore down upon her, battle axe raised high. She quickly rolled to the side, narrowly missing a flying arrow loosed by the creature warring with Rongar. Dirks against arrows, an interesting game of dodgeball to say the least. Spittle flew from the creature’s mouth as it let out an inhuman roar, which Maeve silently prayed was not to call more of its friends to join in the melee. As it roared, Maeve took the opportunity to slice quickly at its face, which caused it only the barest of scratches, though she was sure her strike had utilized deadly force. Barely fazed, it swiped at her with its misshapen claws, causing her to jump back to back with Doubar.

“What the hell are these things?!” she screamed to him with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“Hard to kill Maeve, that’s what!” the big man answered, removing his own sword from the shoulder of one of the unholy beings, who seemed more than ready to re-engage. 

“Doubar, I need a distraction!” she shouted, intent on forming a fireball to cinder her creature into an ugly torch. 

“Firouz, do you have any of your exploding sticks handy?" yelled Doubar, seeing that their typical weaponry was getting them nowhere fast.

“Of course, my friend! answered Firouz. “I never leave the ship without them, especially not when adventuring in strange lands, which are often filled with all manner of beings looking to kill us…”

“Alright genius, get them lit and ready to lob at the ones furthest away from us. I don’t fancy becoming an unwitting part of your firework show!”

As soon as Firouz lit the fuse with his ‘pocket torch,’ which he was very keen to share the intricacies of in a better time and place of course, Rongar took the makeshift grenade and aimed it at the two creatures furthest away. With a deafening blow, a mixture of blackened blood, grey flesh and other disturbing matter went flying across the forest floor, adding a horrendous stench to the already putrid air. The Nomad’s resident scientist was proud beyond measure.

Maeve followed their attack with a well aimed fireball straight into the heart of the monster closest to them, his singed screams adding to the unholy cacophony. The remaining two creatures blessedly ceased their offensive mid stride, clearly shaken by the power of this strange cavalry. With a cry that curdled Maeve’s blood, they regrouped and ran back into the darkness from whence they came.

“Remind me to let you collect some of that powdery diamond dust on our way out Firouz,” conceded Doubar, clearly having been reminded of the usefulness of science.

After several deep breaths, the first mate finally found the words to ask the question on all of their minds. “If this island can only be accessed by those with pure hearts and good intentions, then who the hell were they, and why were they trying to kill us?”

Maeve didn’t know all the secrets of this island, nor did she pretend to know who had put them there, but she was sure of one thing. “They were guards Doubar. Protecting a treasure that they want to stay buried.” 

In the silence that followed, Maeve was sure she heard Dermott screech.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter is a tad bit dirty, twisted, and even a little bloody. The greater the hero, the greater the fall I’m afraid. _< insert Rumina’s evil laughter here >_

Giving up was not something Sinbad was good at. He was strong, he was clever, he was stubborn and he was a natural leader. People believed in him. They called him a ‘hero’… not just those he had helped, but even strangers. His reputation preceded him, and it gave him no small amount of pride and motivation to live up to those expectations. But as he sunk into the warm, comforting abyss that was Rumina’s extravagant bathtub, he knew that giving up was exactly what he was doing. 

He hated her, he hated the person he was becoming… the person she was making him. And yet, it was all so mollifying, so peaceful, that he struggled to care anymore. He was tired of fighting a losing battle, especially since the failure felt so inevitable. The ache in his heart, in his very soul was somehow being soothed in the steaming, scented bathwater, while his exhausted body and mind slipped away.

Sinbad knew there were fates worse than death. He had heard about them, even thought about them with a morbid curiosity. But he never believed he would actually fall prey to them. He was too charming and too capable, not to mention that his mind, under normal circumstances, was as sharp as his sword. He was also inordinately lucky, almost as though a heavenly being was watching over him somehow, he’d always thought, as he touched his rainbow bracelet reflexively. But none of that mattered anymore. Now that he was _hers_.

He knew what fate awaited him. Rumina had told him. She had shown him in that horrific dream aboard the Nomad. He wasn’t just losing this battle, he had lost it. His only hope was that his crew would find the treasure they were seeking. That Maeve, his Maeve, would find a way to save him from Rumina like she had on multiple occasions before (but there was no way he was going to admit that to her, ever). The alternative was impossible to accept.

The false beauty of this place, of Rumina herself, was never more apparent than it was to him now. Laying in her bath while she washed his hair, while he _let_ her wash his hair, was like falling into the hot springs of Hades themselves. He knew she was going to seduce him again. He knew he was going to let her. And he was just like one of those doomed souls, powerless to stop it. 

“Are you enjoying your pet husband Rumina?” he taunted, throwing her some attitude while he was still able. 

“Very much,” she answered matter of factly, as she kissed the erogenous zones around his neck, her ample breasts caressing his back. “But I’d enjoy you much more if you were inside me.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” he spat, as her eyes blazed hellfire itself. What happened next was rather unexpected, but perhaps she considered it foreplay. She yanked back his hair so violently that he saw stars, and raked her nails down his cheek, hard enough that he was sure she drew blood. He really shouldn’t have been surprised… he had been baiting her, and he knew she had a vicious temper. Under normal circumstances he would have been careful not to incite it, lest she reduce him into a pillar of flames. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and he knew she valued him more than he valued himself at the moment.

She smiled like the demon she was and moved to straddle him, running her fingers reverently along her handiwork. “Stop lying to yourself Sinbad,” she smiled lustfully, as she licked his wound like the beautiful beast she was. “Hmm, I seem to have left yet another mark. I hate to damage that pretty face, but it should help you forget that filthy barbarian and remember who you belong to.”

Forget Maeve? Not a chance. But he needed Rumina to. And truthfully, though it hurt much more to admit than any bloody wound, he knew that Maeve would be a lot happier if she forgot him. A lot safer too. So, the next thing he did was the most deplorable thing he could think of, but he knew his wicked betrothed would love it. And worst of all, that he wanted to. 

He grabbed her head and kissed her violently, biting her lip and leaving a mark of his own. He pulled away, his eyes daring her to make her next move, their filthy game of chess giving her no small pleasure. Rumina paused for only a heartbeat, her eyes glimmering with arousal, before she ran her finger over her own blood and rubbed it against his lips.

It drove him absolutely wild with a twisted mixture of hatred and desire, and he knew his soul was doomed. Beautiful women had always been his weakness, and this one had the additional power of a binding curse at her disposal. In that moment, he was all to eager to fuck her, and she knew it. She settled herself onto his traitorously eager cock and he surrendered himself to her.

“If I’m being perfectly honest, I love it that you still try to fight me Sinbad,” she confessed as she rode him. “Pretend you aren’t craving my touch. It’s been so much fun to break you. Soon I won’t get to enjoy this dynamic in our relationship anymore. Then again, we could always role play,” she giggled, as his stomach lurched. He couldn’t tell if he loved it or despised it, loved her or despised her, his mind a mess of passion and pain. She had driven him insane, and he doubted he could ever remember the man he was, the man who was so much more than this.

With every thrust, she forced her will onto his body, and into his soul. With every word, she turned his mind to mush. “It can get so very lonely here my love, but not anymore. You took my father from me, so it’s only fitting that I take you now. Your sweet glow of goodness is sure to brighten my days. Not to mention warm my bed.”

She was right, he suddenly realized. It was so cruel of him to kill her father. He truly had left her no other recourse. It was only fair that he spent the rest of his life making it up to her, becoming the family she no longer had.

“I have special plans for our wedding day Sinbad,” she confided, slowing her pace so he could appreciate every word. I really shouldn’t spoil the surprise, but I want you to be properly prepared for the best day of our lives. Tomorrow night, as we conquer Basra together, and I ascend the throne, we will seal our bond as man and wife. The entire city will know of our union, and of our rule.”

Marrying her… what a wonderful idea. Her skin was porcelain white, her eyes sparkling green like a turquoise gem. He was so very lucky to have such a breathtaking woman in his arms. One that wanted to remain there always. He succumbed to a powerful orgasm, as much his signature on their marriage contract as any pen and ink.

She wasn’t far behind him, screaming his name to the heavens with ardor. They were both soaking wet, having upset half the bathwater on the floor and walls. Of course, Rumina wasn’t at all concerned with the mess. After all, she didn’t have to clean it. They toweled each other off sensually, each taking their time to appreciate the beauty of the other.

She led them, still stark naked, to her bed. Their bed. What a comfortable life he was to have. Living like royalty, actually getting to be royalty. He lay down beside her, cradling her lovely form, their mutual warmth radiating into his soul. 

“I do love feeling your seed inside me Sinbad,” Rumina confessed. “Soon we’ll have something else to bond us together, the only thing I’ll let you love other than me.”

Sinbad smiled at her adoringly, still basking in the afterglow of their intense lovemaking. Her dark beauty was hypnotic, and he was only too happy to fall under its spell. Was he really going to father her children? By Allah, what did he ever do to be so lucky? Why had he ever thought to fight this? This indescribable connection they had, this… _lie!_

He gasped as if choking on the oxygen that flooded his lungs, moving away from her instinctively, like prey from a predator. Allah help him. _Children._ With _her_. He hadn’t really put much thought into the consequences of their lovemaking the past two nights, too absorbed with worries about fighting the curse and defeating her.

Rumina was having none of his resistance however. She was a spider and he was caught in her web. And the threads were woven throughout his very being. She wanted him to stay, so he stayed. She wanted him to listen, so he listened. But he didn’t have to like it. For now.

“How do you think our subjects will feel to see their great hero, their great defender fallen to my will, dearest?” she taunted, as she tucked a stray strand of his damp hair behind his ear.

“Hopefully better than I do about it, my lady” he countered, prepared for her to slap him, or worse. Their vigorous fuck seemed to have mollified her anger however, or maybe she only liked to hurt him to heighten her arousal. Either way, it was equally disgusting.

“Oh Sinbad, that’s not the way you should address me, nor should anyone for that matter… its far too lowly of a title for me now. My Empress would sound far better on your tongue, and the tongues of all those who speak of me,” she smiled contentedly. Sinbad was unable to hold back his grimace.

“Back to what I was saying, however. The people like you Sinbad. Love you even. Commoners and royalty alike. You win their hearts with your charm, your bravery, your commitment to their well being, even at the expense of you own. Your reputation precedes you, quite literally from coast to coast. I on the other hand, have a much, let’s say, darker reputation,” she admitted.

“They hate you,” clarified Sinbad, once again surprised he didn’t at least get a slap.

Instead, she laughed. “They don’t yet have an appreciation for me. They haven’t seen the true extent of my power. Haven’t yet witnessed my inevitable ascension to a throne without equal, one that stretches from Turkey to Oman, and eventually even farther.”

“I can see that humility isn’t one of your virtues, Empress,” he countered caustically.

“It doesn’t need to be, dearest,” she retaliated with equal venom. “Now quit interrupting me. Don’t you want to hear what I have planned for you, my handsome hero?”

“You mean other than forcing me to remain here as your glorified slave?” he spat.

“Oh Sinbad, slave is such a harsh word. Especially for the man I love.” To his great irritation, she continued to play with his hair, moving to caress the still stinging scratches on his cheek.

“Harsh words for a harsh reality, Rumina,” he answered coldly.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way. Actually, I’m not really. Besides, by nightfall tomorrow you won’t feel anything but bliss for the rest of your life.”

“I suppose I’m just the luckiest man in the world then,” he admonished.

“Enough with your attitude dearest. I wish to be reasonable to the populace. Firm, but also fair.”

“I hardly took you for a humanitarian Rumina,” he scoffed, disliking where this conversation was going. He knew without her saying what it is she wanted from him. Besides his body, besides his devotion, besides his seed. The pieces were falling into place, sealing his fate as not only her husband, but as her diplomat with a sword. Her prince consort indeed.

She laughed once more. “I’m assuredly not Sinbad. I don’t much concern myself with the well being of humanity, unless of course, we’re talking about me. You on the other hand, are a true white knight, championing their rights, protecting them from evil, safeguarding their freedom, looking out for their well being. The people’s hero, soon to become the people’s prince. My prince,” she punctuated.

He had no words left to respond to her, no ability left to fight her, and no more pride left to lose, so he let her talk. He felt his mind beginning to float adrift once more like flotsam in the sea, and she was hell bent on making sure it stayed that way, forever.

“I’ll give you a much finer ship than the Nomad, blessed with endless wind in its sails, impervious to storms no matter how great, and the finest crew filled with warriors, mages even with bumbling scientists if you wish it. And if your brother isn’t too obtuse, I may even let him live, and sail with you once more. You will fight for peace in our Empire, winning the hearts and the loyalty of our people. Help however many peasants you want, kill whatever monsters you wish, but make sure that in the end, they know you do it in my name. That we are one, and they should repay your kindness with undying fealty to my rule.”

Truthfully it wasn’t such a bad deal, if he was being honest with himself. Not much different really than now. What did the ship really matter anyways? He could even invite his old crew to join, if they didn’t try to rebel against his Empress’ rule.

Maybe in the end, his joining with Rumina was fate. The ultimate heroic sacrifice of his happiness and freedom for the freedom and well being of a continent. He would temper her cruelty and selfishness with his kindness and compassion. He would soften the vicious blade of her rule by acting as an intermediary of sorts between her and her enemies. He could safeguard many lives this way. Encourage Rumina to make some concessions towards her new subjects, to obtain their obedience through some give and take. Yin and Yang indeed. The darkness and the light bound together eternally, giving rise to their truest potential. Their truest power.

Their children would undoubtedly be beautiful and powerful. And he would teach them to have compassion as well as strength. To use their powers with discretion and grace. Their dynasty would be secured for generations. The Near East would come to see them not simply as dictators, but fair and just rulers, worthy of following. They would win the people’s hearts as well as their obedience. 

He decided in that moment to stop fighting the inevitable. It was time to accept his fate, his duty to the world. He felt only the slightest moment of hesitation as a caress of wavy red hair flashed through his mind, his heart, before he pulled Rumina into his embrace.

Rumina heard his thoughts, and reveled in his sweet submission. She smiled at him with triumph in her eyes, nestling into his beautiful form. “You’ll be mine forever Sinbad,” she affirmed reverently. “And you’ll be the happiest man that ever lived.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Dermott!” shouted Maeve, frustrated beyond words at the lack of sky she was able to see beneath the forbidding canopy of trees. Just as she was beginning to worry however, Dermott shot beneath them to become visible, resting upon a thick, shining vine; one of thousands that decorated the landscape like swaths of green silk.

“Don’t scare me like that again brother,” Maeve admonished him telepathically, willing at least one of the men she loved to remain under her watchful eye.

“Are you going to spend your afternoon lecturing me, or are you ready to see what I’ve found?” he teased, ever the bold and spirited little brother she remembered.

“Honestly Dermott, I’m not sure who’s the bigger firebrand between the two of us,” she mentally chastised.

“You sister. Definitely you” he laughed, with a flourish of wings.

“I assume it’s time we follow the leader then Lass?” asked Doubar, eager to stay on the move in the hopes of evading more monstrous island locals.

With a nod, Maeve followed Dermott’s lead, grateful for the special set of skills he was able to offer them. Their trail wound more elaborately than a coil of tangled rope, and had she not trusted her brother with her very soul, she would have doubted him long ago. After what seemed like hours, although she could hardly be sure due to the limited light visible in the forest, they came upon a sight that took her breathe away. Ornately carved stone towers rose up taller than the trees, painted with moss that seemed to glow with a hypnotic fluorescence. Flickering blue flames burned in lanterns and torches as far as the eye could see, like eternal watchers of the secrets hidden within this mystical place. Platforms and stairways crumbled into ruins, interspersed with jungle growth and decay. The entire landscape appeared to have been built by the Gods eons ago, but forgotten in the merciless wreckage of time.

“Astonishing,” breathed Firouz, expressing the thought on everyone’s minds at the breathtaking spectacle. “These are most certainly ruins, but the architecture is wholly unique, unlike anything I’ve had the opportunity to study before. The morphology is entirely foreign, impossible for me to classify without some comparative research. Even determining a date for the construction would be nothing more than an educated hypothesis, which…”

“Once again Firouz, kindly keep your scientific curiosity to yourself. I’m in no mood…”

“Actually Doubar,” Firouz clarified, “my interest in this case, is not technically scientific curiosity, but rather, archeological and anthropological curiosity. I wonder what civilization existed here. They were clearly quite advanced in their building techniques. Imagine what knowledge they could have shared with us, if they hadn’t succumbed to such a mysterious and dire ending!”

“It’s the mysterious and dire ending that I’m concerned about,” confirmed Doubar. Maeve was inclined to agree. They had already encountered what could have been local peoples from this island, or what was left of them, before they succumbed to some unknown, cruel force.

“Doubar is right Firouz,” she agreed. “Whatever happened here, it was not enacted in the spirit of welcoming and benevolence that Cairpra led us to expect. This place breathes powerful magic, but also suffering, punishment. Whatever forces exist here are not going to welcome us with open arms, or hand over the the Cintamani stone without proving ourselves worthy of it in some way.” It seemed the lengths Buddha went through to safeguard this stone were layered beyond expectation, swathed in an abundance of caution.

The more Maeve studied their path forward, the more dejected she felt. While the tree cover seemed to have blessedly thinned around the ruins, such that the air was substantially less thick, and the horrendous creatures seemed to be keeping their distance for the time being at least, the challenge that faced them now was no less substantial. Maeve was certain that only the most able bodied and sure footed of men could get very far traversing the crumbling, moss covered expanse. Dermott sailed above them, urging them forward, seeming to disappear down a tunnel littered with the unsettling blue flames, their unofficial tour guide. If only she had wings, she thought enviously, seeing the same look of trepidation mirrored on her crew mate's faces.

“Well,” Doubar broke the silence, “let’s hope these ancient rocks can hold up against this ale loving sea slug. This is much more my little brother’s cup of tea, climbing the Nomad’s rigging as he does, more agile than a jungle cat...” but quickly halted his musings, feeling the pain of Sinbad’s absence with a sharp pang.

The lack of their captain’s agility and infectiously adventurous spirit was woefully lacking indeed, especially when faced with a task that was seemingly made for him. But they owed it to Sinbad to rise to this challenge, as he rose to all those that faced him. His memory inspired them to confront the unknown, no matter what the chances of success. The prize was too vital to allow for anything less.

As if in tandem with their determination to press forward, or rather, upwards, a rain unlike any they’d seen before began to fall in torrents, threatening to send them sliding down the muddy expanse into a messy grave. It was suddenly challenging to breathe, never mind speak, Doubar’s shouts to seek higher ground muffled in the downpour. The crew didn’t need to be instructed to move upwards however. It was clear that down below lay death, or profound injury at the very least, the ground beneath them becoming an unintentional water basin.

Just as Maeve reached her hand out to begin climbing the dangerous expanse of rock, she felt something hit her shoulder that made her scream out and nearly plummet backwards into the quagmire below. She soon realized her fears were unnecessary however, as the barely visible Moor stood on the platform above, dangling a thick green vine. Maeve smiled back gratefully at Rongar. Too burdened with her wistful thoughts about Sinbad’s absence, she forgot that their crew had another equally strong and agile member, whose improvisation skills rivaled their captain’s own.

“Fancy a boost lass?” asked Doubar rather cheerfully, obviously impressed with Rongar’s problem solving skills as well. It was no easy task to climb the vine with only her upper body strength and her eyes blinded by rain. It fell so viciously that she was sure it had a mind of its own, seeking to cleanse the island of visitors much like the horrific monsters before it. She closed her eyes and relied instead on feeling, finding occasional footings to help stabilize and propel herself upwards to the platform above. As she felt Rongar’s strong arms lift her at the top, she was barely able to resist giving him a big bear hug worthy of Doubar himself. Instead, she grasped his forearms with heartful thanks.

It took Doubar and Firouz significantly longer to make their way upwards, a fact which caused Maeve no small amount of frustration. She loved them both dearly… they were her adopted family after all. But right now, any slow down was an unacceptable drain on the limited time they had to meet Rumina’s attack on Basra. To save Sinbad. She willed the Goddess silently to give her patience, a virtue she was not particularly blessed with.

Once the two men had reached the platform safely, Rongar gestured them forward to follow in Maeve’s footsteps. Thankfully, the rest of their ascent was littered with crumbling but traversable looking staircases, hewn out of the expansive rock in a spiralling pattern. Maeve was dubious however, about their ability to hold weight, particularly of the Doubar variety. As if they needed more obstacles, she thought acerbically. At least the unholy rain had ebbed to a steady but manageable flow, such that they could see where they were going, and hear each other speak once more. Between Doubar’s complaining and Firouz’s excited chatter however, Maeve wasn’t sure if the latter was particularly fortunate.

Rongar was the first to try the staircase, progressing up a few steps with little difficulty. He wasn’t far however, before one of the crumbling slabs gave way partially beneath his foot, causing him to vault to the next step in fear. It was a long way down into a gurgling mud pool.

“Fantastic. This journey just keeps getting better and better,” spat Doubar, echoing Maeve’s feelings in a nutshell. “Not only do I have to climb up slippery vines and try not to meet my end in a filthy grave, now I have to watch where I step in case my healthy appetite betrays me.” His sense of humour did nothing to lighten her mood.

Maeve wasn’t sure what Gods were looking out for them, but as they moved onward and upwards, the stairs seemed to hold together for the most part, as if cemented by their wills alone. Rongar took the lead, pressing his foot firmly onto the steps in front of him before shifting his entire weight forward, all the while gripping with one of his dirks into crevices on the rock face. He was the most surefooted guinea pig Maeve had ever seen, testing the strength of each step before allowing the rest of them to progress. What they would have done without him on this journey, she didn’t know. Mind you, she felt that way about him on most of their adventures.

Maeve let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding when they reached the top of the spiraling staircases, finally onto the highest platform where Dermott had flown. Before them stretched the strange tunnel she had seen from the base of their climb, with the smoldering lanterns lined like sentinels as far as the eye could see. She couldn’t help but find the ambience disturbing, as though they were walking towards their judgement at the gates of paradise, the flames acting as mute spectators. It was no small comfort when Dermott landed neatly upon her arm, clearly satisfied with their progress. At least someone was in good spirits, she sighed internally.

Doubar seemed relatively unaffected by Dermott’s return however, quick to revert to the characteristic sarcasm he employed when irritated, which seemed to be his resting state on this journey.

“Why can’t there be some element to all this where I can actually feel useful? Other than for my cheery personality of course!” he scoffed.

“Well Doubar, it looks like you may get your chance!” chirped Firouz, eager to raise the spirits of the dejected treasure seekers. Sure enough, at the end of the tunnel, there appeared to be a majestic looking road block, in the form of two heavy chains hanging before an ornately carved stone slab. Glowing blue braziers were lit on either side, daring trespassers to stand before them and try their strength.

“It appears to be some kind of opening mechanism for a door!” surmised Firouz, clearly impressed with the ingenuity of the ancient design. Maeve took his word for it. He was rather fond of complicated door mechanisms, from what she had been told.

Doubar promptly grasped one of the chains and hauled with all his might. Unfortunately, the door barely opened enough to allow for a rat to enter, never mind four adults.  
“Rongar,” he shouted with exertion, “try grabbing the other chain and let’s see if we can get it to open up properly.” The Moor hauled with all his might, but was barely able to make a dent in the opening. Only when Firouz added his strength to their pull, did the stone door finally give way to allow a large enough opening to pass through. Given that there was nowhere to tie or attach the chain however, this development was relatively useless.

“It appears we may need to hypothesize about a better alternative than brute strength,” rasped Firouz, as all three men let go to catch their breaths. The stone door slammed down with ferocity, as immovable as one of Rumina’s stone giants.

At this thought, an idea struck Maeve like a bolt of lightning, or rather, a ball of flames. “Stand back gentlemen,” she warned, willing all her strength into a hearty fireball, suiting her fiery mood. She threw her flaming weapon with all her might at the immovable door, only to be thrown backwards by a strange force. Once the smoke cleared, Maeve stared in equal parts awe and irritation at the carvings upon the door, which glowed with ominous blue light, matching the flames littered upon the ruins in droves. She was ready to scream with frustration, or cry, but she did neither. Her stubborn pride would not allow her to.

“Astonishing,” muttered Firouz, as he approached the still glowing door, studying the carvings as they faded into a muted glow. “It appears that they’re illustrating a classic balancing system, much like a set of scales. The door will only open fully if we can hold equivalent weight on each side.”

Doubar let out a frustrated breath. “How exactly are we going to manage that? There are no weights that I can see around here, nor are we able to go back down to ground level and get some.” Maeve too felt discouraged. How could they have come so far, only to be stopped by a cursed piece of rock.

“Actually, we do have weights Doubar,” answered Firouz. “Three of them to be exact.”

“What are you going on about Firouz? I see no weights here…” but then he trailed off, realizing what the scientist was implying.

“Like hell I’d allow Maeve to head into Allah knows what terrors without us!” he raged at Firouz. “Who knows what else waits in these godforsaken ruins. Those beasts could come back, perhaps even in larger numbers, and then what?”

Maeve resisted the urge to strangle him. “ _Let_ me?!” she yelled, “ _Let_ me?! No one _lets_ me do anything Doubar, not even a brazen oaf such as yourself. I’m the one with magic on my side, plus a highly capable hawk who’d claw the eyes out of anyone or anything that gets in my way. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the sharpness of my sword. I don’t need your permission to do anything, and I won’t ask for it now.” Goddess give her patience for these insipid men with their chivalrous intentions.

“Quit making this about your pride lass. I wouldn’t want any of the crew to venture forth alone, and as captain of this expedition…”

“You aren’t the captain of this expedition Doubar!” she asserted. “You may have captained the ship, but Cairpra specifically said the stone was _my_ responsibility to wield, _my_ burden! We don’t have time to argue about what dangers you think are too great for me. Basra needs us Doubar. Sinbad needs us!”

“You don’t think I know that my brother needs us woman?! He’s all I can think about during every step of this cursed journey, and I know he would have never wanted you to go through that door alone!” He balked at this last statement, his anger melting into sorrow as he sat down suddenly, struggling to fight back tears.

“Sinbad would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you Maeve,” he admitted. “He wouldn’t want any of the crew to take unnecessary risks lass, but especially not you.” No more words were needed to understand the hidden meaning behind his words, and it soothed Maeve’s anger, as did his grief.

Maeve rested her hand against his shoulder, moving to sit beside him. “Doubar,” she intoned gently but firmly, willing him to heed her words. “You know there is no other choice. I have to go. You’re not letting me go, I’m going. So if Sinbad ever hears about this, he can be angry with me. And if I don’t go, Sinbad will be lost to us, as will our entire world. So there’s little point in worrying about keeping me safe from a fate that can’t be worse than the one waiting for us if we fail.”

Doubar nodded silently, placing his hand on top of hers. “Be careful Lass. Don’t make me regret listening to you.” He paused. “And under no circumstances are we ever telling Sinbad I let this happen under my watch. Understood?”

Maeve couldn’t help but smirk. “Sorceress’s honour Doubar. But we both know that you’ll probably end up bragging about this adventure to him halfway through a wine cask when all is said and done.” The big man couldn’t help but chuckle.

The moment was soon over however, and he let out a deep sigh. “Let’s get on with it then. Firouz, Rongar, on three.” As the men pulled on their respective chains, the unwieldy door rose slowly upwards, high enough for Maeve and Dermott to sneak through. She met Doubar’s gaze with a mixture of steel and gentleness, before offering him a nod and stepping through the barrier. Although they often didn’t see eye to eye, she loved the big man as if he was family. Leaving him behind, leaving any one of these men behind, was painful to say the least.

However, pain was a feeling all too common for Maeve, especially as of late, so she turned away from them, determined and ready for what lay ahead. Darkness was falling, a combination of the stormy skies and the onset of evening. And something else, Maeve felt, as a chill rippled through her. The door sealing behind her made her feel somehow claustrophobic, although the space before her was most certainly larger than in the tunnel. The evening sky was laid out in a grey expanse above her, the moon and stars not yet out to filter through the clouds.

The room she found herself in, if that’s what it could be called, was as large as the throne room of a palace, yet bereft of any correspondingly opulent furnishings. Carved grey stone encircled her, interspersed with patterns, pictures and words from a language she did not understand, nor had time to puzzle out. Truthfully, her eyes were drawn to something else entirely. As in all the ruins they had traveled, this room was filled with the strange blue lanterns, torches and braziers, but somehow, in here, they were alive. They danced upon the stone like fireflies on a forest’s edge, seeming to laugh at the sorceress’s confusion and wonder.

Then she heard a whisper echo in the cavern around her, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end. “Welcome Maeve of the Nomad,” it said with a feminine lilt. “I knew it would be you to ask me for the stone. A woman… this I approve of.” A graceful creature made of blue light, both formless but undeniably female rose up to meet her. She was hypnotically beautiful, just like the dancing lights swirling around the room, no longer harnessed to any container.

“Do you like my welcoming parade? I know you are fond of flames. You have some of your own after all,” it teased her, her airy voice seeming to encircle Maeve much like the eerie beings in the expanse around her. The sorceress nodded, unsure what else she could say about the surreal display. “You are different than those who have come before you. Most have wanting hearts, wanting to be rich, wanting to be powerful, wanting eternal life, wanting, wanting, wanting. The last I am only too willing to give to them, but not the in way they were expecting.” Maeve could not help but gasp as the dancing flames coalesced into the image of a snarling beast, identical to the creatures they had battled outside of the ruins.

“You made them… these things…” stuttered Maeve, horrified at the power and the cruelty this being possessed.

“Yes,” she replied. “But in a way, they made themselves. They were already monsters, or would have been had I given them their wish. Now they help to guard this precious treasure, as do I, as do we all,” she proclaimed, gesturing to the lights surrounding them.

“But I thought that only those who had pure hearts, and good intentions could even find this island, that it was a paradise…”

“It was once sweet sorceress, it was. It’s true that only those with pure hearts and good intentions can find this place. However, the hearts of men are weak and easily corrupted. I see into their futures, into their souls. I see what their wish will do to them and to those around them over time. And I know that there will be only pain and suffering, for themselves and others, if I give them the stone. Very few have been worthy of it, just as very few in this world wish to do what is truly right with their power, in spite of all temptations.”

“What do you see in my soul then?” asked Maeve bravely, terrified, but curious at the same time. The woman laughed merrily and flipped herself round and round in the air, like a mermaid dancing upon the waves. “I see pride. I see stubbornness. Anger. A desire for vengeance.” She paused and gazed at Maeve, seeming to read from her soul as though she were a novel. “But I also see honour. A thirst for justice. Loyalty. And love….” She let this last word echo into the silence around them.

Maeve let out a breath, willing tears not to fill her eyes. This strange being knew her inside out, perhaps even better then she knew herself. And she feared that she was not worthy of the stone, that she would never be worthy. That she would be sent away or worse, that she would fail.

“So much sadness sweet sorceress,” the flame woman cooed. “Too much. Tell me, what do you intend to do with your wish?” Maeve looked at her as if she had sprouted an additional head. “You just told me that you can read the souls of men, see their futures…”

“Yes, yes, that is true. But you are a woman, are you not?” she laughed, before becoming serious once more. “I want to hear you say it, in your own words, what you truly want. And don’t just tell me that you want to defeat an evil sorceress and save your home.”

Maeve was reluctant to share her heart, but something about this woman of flame drew her to it, to share her innermost secrets she could not even dare to admit to herself. “There is someone I care for a great deal. More than one person actually,” she admitted, the images of Dermott and Sinbad filling her mind. “They need me to defeat this evil sorceress, as you said. I need this power so they can be free. I am not strong enough, and yet, I am their only hope.” An unbidden tear rolled down her cheek. It was not often that Maeve discussed her feelings, admitted her weaknesses, her fears to anyone. Even, and perhaps especially not to herself.

“These men, for I already know they are men,” laughed the flame goddess. “You do not love them in the same way.” Maeve balked at this, somewhat irritated that she was being made to announce her innermost feelings to the universe. She was suddenly very happy that the Nomad crew was not privy to this discussion.

“Love is a gift Maeve, a strength, more so than any power,” she admonished, echoing the words Cairpra had told her not so long ago. “Never be ashamed to love. They are both deserving of it after all.” She laughed once more, and Maeve could not help but smile as she thought of them. Of Dermott, with his boyish spirit but also a wisdom beyond his years. With fiery red hair and a passionate nature to rival her own. And of Sinbad, with his charm, his beauty, the playful twinkle in his eye. Not to mention his bravery, his penchant for self- sacrifice and the sense that he would do anything for what he knew to be right. For those he loved. For her.

Maeve was so lost in her reverie, that it took her a moment to notice that the flame woman was holding something strange in her hand. Something round that shone like the finest of opals, seeming to hold within it the cosmos themselves. “The stone is yours Maeve,” she said. “You are worthy of your wish. You wish to do good, to fight for good. Do not let your efforts today be for nothing. You have the power now to defeat your enemy. To do good for so many, and even more for those who are dear to you. Let them make you strong.”

Maeve reached forward to grasp the stone, lost in wonderment as it touched her fingertips, feeling power, knowledge and bliss flash through her being in amounts that defied description. The woman of flames chuckled. “Humans cannot be allowed to possess such unchecked power indefinitely... not even someone as noble, and as seemingly incorruptible as you. You may wish for it for a time to achieve your worthy cause, but you cannot be allowed to keep it. The stone will return to its rightful home once you have made your wish, as will your power fade once it is no longer needed. Be glad for this Maeve of the Nomad, so that you can still take pleasure in the life that you know.” And with that, the mysterious being dissipated into the mass of flames around her, as they all ended their dance, and settled back into their vessels.

Maeve knew what she had to do. It was time to be strong like the woman said, like Cairpra said, like everyone needed her to be. And so she would be. She caressed the Cintamani stone reverently for a minute, marveling at its beauty, its power, before she held it up to the heavens, and made her wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if there are any gaming fans reading this, but I drew some of my inspiration for the layout of the ruins from Uncharted 2: Among Thieves. The story centers around Drake and his team searching for the Cintamani stone as well, but it's completely different plot wise from what happens in this fic. They have all manner of modern weaponry at their disposal and a token vicious Eastern European villain trying to steal the stone's powers for himself, so needless to say, it doesn't translate to well to AoS fanlore lol. The setting however, and some of its elements, including the mysterious guardian monsters and the hypnotic looking blue lighting, lent itself really well, I thought, to the Nomad crew's cryptic treasure hunt.


	16. Chapter 16

The fall of Basra was an inevitability, as sure as the twilight filtering through the trees, as sure as the setting sun. But that didn’t mean it would go down without a fight. Omar wasn’t known as the Savage Sultan for nothing, and his army was renowned and feared across the Seven Seas. Cairpra had warned him of Rumina’s impending attack on the eve of Sinbad’s curse. Of the consequences of her obtaining the Obelisk he had so carefully guarded. There was not a moment since he heard of this disastrous news, that he didn’t curse himself for keeping it all these years. He’d always feared his pride would be the death of him, and it seemed that the moment had finally come. Cairpra assured him however that the result would have been the same regardless of where it was housed. The powers of darkness had been gathering for years, and they were finally ready to spread.

Omar wasn’t especially fond of sorcery, especially not now, but he acknowledged the need to fight fire with fire, as it were. So, when Cairpra offered to assist him in formulating his defense, he reluctantly agreed. As he assembled his battalion around the palace, fortifying the city with as many troops as he could spare, the gifted sorceress rose a barrier of her own. Like silken fabric glittering with stars, she draped the palace perimeter with a spell of protection, utilizing the last of her strength in the name of honour and duty.

Cairpra knew from the moment Rumina seized the Obelisk that the power she possessed would not be enough to stop her. She had already sent out her own warriors, in the form of the Nomad crew. Of Maeve. Had already used up most of her strength to propel them forward towards their only real hope of success. Of survival. All her and Omar were doing right now was delaying the inevitable. But that didn’t stop them from doing it. Brave hearts never balked at the impossible. If nothing else, their souls would rest in peace, knowing they had done all they could.

So, when the wind began to blow most viciously, and the skies themselves seemed burdened by darkness, Cairpra was hardly surprised. And when a lone figure appeared on the horizon, walking towards the palace with confidence and purpose, she knew without a doubt who it was.

Sinbad paused at the foot of the steps, noting Cairpra’s silken spell. He rose his hand to outline the barrier with curiosity and caution, knowing better than to touch it.

“What the devil is this?!” Omar hissed to Cairpra. “More trickery, another doppelganger?” Allah help me, I’m getting increasingly tired of this boy’s form.”

“It’s not trickery this time,” assured the grim sorceress, “but a curse.”

“Curse? He looks perfectly fine to me. He was near death the last I heard, and now he’s here to taunt me for not killing him myself.”

“Killing him will do nothing except incite the ire of the one who cursed him. The real enemy. He is but a vessel for her cruel designs, more a victim than any of us.”

Omar was spared answering her by Sinbad’s greeting. “Great Omar of Basra, Sultan with a savage reputation, but whom I know to be a reasonable and astute ruler. I am not here to wage war, but rather, to prevent it. Will you lower your barriers so that we can discuss the terms of peace?”

“Terms of peace,” he muttered caustically. “I should very much like to disassemble you piece by piece!”

Sinbad was unfazed by the Sultan’s threats, as if the latter had just offered to give him a tour of the grounds. “Will you allow me to pass or not Omar? I will leave my sword and dagger here as a sign of my good intentions,” he smiled slyly, unsheathing his weapons.

Omar looked ready to grab those very same weapons and use them to wipe the smile off of his face permanently, but thought better of it. Age truly had mellowed him over the years, he noted with chagrin. He nodded his head at Cairpra to lift the barrier, allowing it to part like a curtain for the would-be diplomat to pass. Sinbad laid his weapons down carefully at the border, before ascending the steps. “It’s nice to see you again Cairpra,” he offered upon reaching the grand foyer, charming and warm as if greeting an old friend. 

“I wish I could say the same dear Captain,” her chilly reception causing his easy manner to falter slightly. 

“Speak now boy, while I still allow you to,” spat Omar, well beyond pleasantries.

Sinbad smiled once more, a hint of darkness upon his previously warm features. He fixed Omar with a serious gaze, speaking to him with all the firmness that a Captain commanded. “I know you tire of senseless bloodshed. Time and experience have given you wisdom and foresight, which you have used to ensure the best possible outcome for your subjects. You sought to broker peace with the Caliph of Baghdad for this very reason, which as you no doubt remember, I am all too aware of. In this case, such discretion will ensure your very survival.” 

He paused, moving closer with a playful yet predatory edge, worthy of the one who had claimed him. “What I offer is not so much different from the life you know now. Peace for your people, retention of much of your power, even the chance to remain living in this fine palace, once of course, our Empress has ascended the throne of Baghdad. Don’t allow your pride, and your reputation for violence to get the better of you.”

Omar was a mask of indignation. “If only we could all live up to our reputation _boy_ , alleged hero turned traitor. I shall have your head for this, curse or no curse, so I can send it back to your so-called Empress in a pretty box.” 

“I think not, Omar,” said a cold voice, echoing in the air around them. “I like his pretty head right where it is.”

Rumina arrived at the palace steps standing upon a coach made of swirling black mist, propelled forward by an unseen force, as if belched out from the sky itself. The soon to be Empress was adorned like a bride straight from a nightmare. Her form fitting dress of sheer black lace covered every inch of her from throat to heel, save for a plunging backline, intertwined with thousands of miniscule red rubies, lending her the appearance of glowing with hellfire itself. Large ruby earrings and a shining pendant matched her blood red lips and long, manicured nails. Lastly, an exceptionally long veil of onyx lace trailed far behind her, like an oozing wound, carried by terrified maidens on either side. This bride was clearly not interested in wearing white, nor should she be, she reflected with mirth. That would be a much better look for her incorruptible groom, her personal prince charming at last.

She met Cairpra’s eyes from a distance, giggling at her spell of protection. But rather than waste her power attempting to break through the formidable barrier, she bent down to lift Sinbad’s dagger from its place at the boundary line. And use it to tear an opening large enough for her and her entourage to enter. 

“You should never trust a wolf in sailor’s clothing old woman,” she laughed sardonically, as she brandished the obviously be-spelled dagger. “I thought you’d be quite familiar with ancient words of wisdom to be honest, but I suppose people do slow down with age,” she spat.

The elder sorceress was a mask of solemnity, as Rumina slid up the palace steps, unwilling to dignify her jibe with a response. The latter smirked at Cairpra as she passed, savouring the weakness of her opponent, before turning her attention to her partner in crime. 

“Commendable effort with the diplomacy my love,” she cooed to Sinbad, caressing his cheek lovingly. “I know you so earnestly wanted to spare him suffering, but alas, I knew your mission was destined to fail. You heroes are so adorable sometimes, with your principles and your championing of good. This brute is far too stubborn, far too vicious and far too stupid to accept your generous offer.” 

Tactfulness and restraint were not virtues that Omar possessed. “How dare you, you vile witch! I will have your head for this, I…” 

His tirade was interrupted by a sharp twist of Rumina’s hand, as a tendril of blackened mist wrapped around his mouth and neck, turning his reddened cheeks purple. “That’s quite enough beheading talk for one day old man,” she chuckled. And as the captain of the guard gave the order to attack, the wicked witch squeezed her other hand to disarm the warriors of Basra with equal efficacy. 

Sinbad was quick to intervene, ever the altruist despite the heartless mistress he served. “Careful my love, not too hard,” he implored her tenderly. “If he dies, you’ll have the inconvenience of finding a new governor of Basra that the people will respect as much as him… which would be no small feat I can assure you.”

Rumina considered him for a moment, before releasing her grip enough to allow Omar to breathe. “You’re right my darling diplomat. I have bigger and better things on my agenda to focus on, rather than finding a replacement for this boor. Besides, the less time we have to spend in this dingy excuse for a city, the better.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself dearest,” he answered her, as they shared a chuckle.

“Now, back to the business at hand. Are you ready to heed the wise words of my soon to be Prince Omar, or will you choose to suffer?

The savage Sultan’s position on the matter was absolute. “Go back to the pit of hell from which you came, and take this sorry excuse for a man with you!”

Rumina’s face was a dangerous mixture of playful cruelty, as she simpered at him with mock hurt. “Tsk, tsk, that wasn’t nice at all. No one talks to my fiancé that way and gets away with it.” 

With a wave of her hand, darkness swirled around Omar’s form as he screamed. An empty hole was seemingly ripped in the air itself to consume him, leaving behind only a black shade, formless and floating. Not pausing to savour the spectacle, Rumina faced his army and parted her hands with graceful ferocity, eliciting a horrendous cacophony of muffled cries, the warriors of Basra reduced to nothing but shadows coating the sky. 

Her laugh echoed in the silence around as though a choir of demons had assembled to sing of her victory. Sinbad stared at her in equal parts shock and horror, while Cairpra fixed her with an austere stare. Rumina met her gaze like a feral cat, ready to pounce on a particularly juicy mouse. “How do you like my offensive, you meddlesome old hag?”

“As much as I like you Rumina, which is to say, not at all,” she ascertained, as firm and biting as her steel gaze. 

“Ouch,” teased the merciless sorceress. “More insults. You residents of Basra don’t seem very smart at all. And such poor manners. I suppose I’ll have to teach them all a lesson about their new reality, and about putting their faith in the wrong people. She rose her arms up to the heavens from which she most certainly fell, as cries were heard on the wind, like thousands of vultures screeching in the air.

“Rumina stop!” Sinbad entreated her, grabbing her hands and fixing her with a look of concern and dismay. “They don’t all have to suffer. They are innocent! I can understand taking the army, Omar, Cairpra even, but why the people…

Rumina grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling hard enough to elicit a cry of his own. “Never. Question me. Again. Dearest. Do you understand?” she sneered dangerously, as her eyes bored into his skull. Sinbad’s face was a mask of confusion as he looked at her strangely, all of a sudden unsure of what he was doing, why he was there, why…why…why... It was enough to drive him mad, and he began to wince as if a hot dagger was slicing through his brain.

“Fight her brave Captain,” encouraged Cairpra. “You are better than her, stronger than her. You are cursed but you are not yet lost. There are those who love you, those who know what love truly means, who have not abandoned you,” she ascertained, as she fixed their wicked oppressor with a gaze that could pierce stone. 

Rumina smirked dangerously, as she released Sinbad, leaving him to his pain. “I told you to stop your meddling, but I suppose that peasants can’t help being daft. As I was about to tell my naughty prince, the people of Basra are not truly lost. Not even the warriors or Omar himself. They are watching us in the lovely comfort of the shadow realm, while their shades help set the mood for the arrival of your pesky heroes. Once they have the opportunity to watch me dispose of your alleged liberators, I will give them each a choice. Return and swear undying fealty to me, or rot as a waif for the rest of their lives. You unfortunately, will be given no such luxury.” She laughed malevolently as she watched Cairpra be sucked into the void, the woman a mask of stoicism even in her banishment. 

Sinbad was wholly unaware of what had just transpired, grasping his forehead as though letting go would cause his brains to fall out. “There, there my love,” Rumina soothed, as she placed her hands over his. “I’m sorry for my rather quick temper. I know you were just acting on your humanitarian instincts, trying to save the world from suffering as you so love to do. I suppose we both have to learn to accept the other for who they are.” She smiled consolingly as he let his hands fall to his sides, allowing himself to be lost in her spell once more. 

Why had his head felt ready to implode? What had he been so upset, so confused about? The woman he loved was holding him tenderly, apologizing to him when there was nothing to forgive. Of course she would have been angry at him for interfering in her rule. What other recourse could there possibly be? She was the most beautiful and powerful woman in the world after all, and he would do well to remember that the next time he ever thought to defy her. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself Sinbad,” she purred, quieting his troubled mind as she curled into his willing arms. “It’s time we get settled into our new home… we have a wedding to prepare for after all. The sun is close to setting, and I want you all dressed and ready for the when the guests arrive.”


	17. Chapter 17

A suffocating darkness hung over Basra as the Nomad reached port, the water itself seemingly filled with an invisible tar. What should have been a peaceful twilight evening, with shades of sunset bathing the city in warmth, was instead an ominous dusk, as though the sky itself was lit by smoldering coals. Maeve didn’t need to be told that Rumina had come. Had already claimed the city like everything else that gluttonous woman desired. They were too late to stop her ascension to power. But they would be the reason she fell. 

Maeve moved silently onto the docks, her every footstep radiating power, and rage. She was the predator now, and Rumina had best get used to being prey. No more hiding, no more waiting, no more fear. This was her moment and she would damn well seize it. Her mere presence sliced through the heavy shadows with her newfound power, her kindling fire now a full-blown inferno. 

The crew followed her tenuously, though no less resolute in their intentions. Their love, their sense of purpose, lent them a power of their own. It may not be enough to challenge Rumina with, but it was certainly enough to bolster Maeve’s confidence. She had friends, a family, a calvary as it were. Rumina had nothing but whatever she conjured, whatever she conquered, whatever she stole. Tonight, Maeve would get it back. Get him back. And then she would never let him go. 

Silenced stretched like a languishing cat across the normally lively streets, not a soul to be seen. It was as if the buildings themselves had succumbed to an incurable pestilence, the life having been slowly and irrevocably drained from the normally robust landscape. Whatever this magic was, it was meant to suppress, to empty, to reduce to blackness, to silence. It seemed to be the only sort of spell that sorceress was capable of wielding, Maeve regarded with irritation, an errant spark of power flying from the tips of her hair. She didn’t just house a fiery spirit and hone the ability to throw fireballs anymore. She _was_ power. She _was_ flame. And she would use it to burn through every inch of Rumina’s shadows if need be.

“To what pit of hell was this place thrown into?” questioned Doubar, with an uncharacteristic hint of fear.

“Apparently a very deep one,” offered Firouz, clearly nervous as well.

The dark-skinned Moor slid amongst the shadows like a feral cat, a panther ready to strike at the first sign of movement. But Maeve could tell that Rongar’s eyes hinted of strain, prepared to fight a monster that could not be seen, not be touched, and not be fought with any weapon he possessed. Even Dermott seemed reluctant to fly very far, staying close to Maeve as if the heavy, blackened skies would open up to consume him. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Maeve implored them, needing them to hear, needing them to listen… especially Doubar, with his recent overprotective streak. He may have conceded that she had enough power to light the entire continent aflame, but that didn’t mean he was any more comfortable letting her fight alone. Especially not against their worst enemy, who had equivalent resources at her disposal. 

“Define stupid,” he countered, clearly not willing to back down from a good bickering session. Lately he was as infuriating as his brother. It must be a captain thing, Maeve groaned internally, unimpressed with this pattern of behaviour.

“Thinking you can fight magic with brawn alone,” she supplied, firm, but not wanting to hurt his feelings. He had lost almost as much as she had to Rumina, and she knew that he wanted his revenge just as keenly. Wanted his brother back, safe and under his watchful eye for the rest of the foreseeable future. 

“You’re undoubtedly a fierce warrior Doubar, more capable than most. All of you can hold your own in battle. But you must see, you must feel that this is not the kind of battle you’re used to.”

“I don’t much care if it’s a battle between fairy princesses Maeve. Sinbad is my brother and I will fight for him, magic be damned.”

Maeve was piqued, although she knew she shouldn’t be. She would do the exact same thing if the shoe was on the other foot. This was about honour, about pride, about love. But she didn’t have to like it.

“You will die if you’re not careful Doubar. You all will. Or you’ll succumb to whatever fate befell the people, the warriors of Basra. And it will do Sinbad no good. He’s already suffering enough, your loss would push him over the edge, if he hasn’t fallen off of it already.”

The emotion in her voice was hard to hold back. She didn’t want to think about Sinbad right now. Love may give her strength, but it also made her vulnerable. There was too much she cared about on the line at the moment. She didn’t need the additional burden of protecting the Nomad crew from whatever black magic Rumina had conjured.

“Then I will die a noble death Maeve. If you think I’m going to sit out on this one, then you clearly lost your mind back on that godforsaken island. Besides, how do you know the warriors of Basra aren’t fighting her and her infantry right now? We aren’t to the palace yet…”

“Open your eyes Doubar, and your ears. There is no battle happening, here or anywhere nearby.” The silence was indeed oppressive. Absolute. This was not a city under siege. It was a city emptied.

This realization seemed to quell his arguments, or at least give him pause, not to mention send prickles up Maeve’s spine. She didn’t know what Rumina had done to the people, to Omar’s army. But they were gone. She had silenced them somehow. Sent them somewhere, but where she did not know. What she did know however, was that she was going to get them back, along with Sinbad and Dermott. It was a certainty that she kindled within her blazing heart.

The continual stillness, reeking of black magic, put Maeve increasingly on edge as they approached the steps of Omar’s palace. Now Rumina’s palace, she thought with a shudder. As she had expected, there was no one here. No one anywhere. It was the most terrifying battleground she had ever seen, precisely because there was nothing to see. Basra’s enemy was so strong, that the army might as well have not existed. And for all intents and purposes, they didn’t. 

Although confident and angry enough to spit flames worse than any dragon, Maeve had to concede some fear. Some worry for their fates. The people of this city couldn’t all be dead, could they? What was the point of becoming a ruler if there was no one to rule over? Worst of all, how was she supposed to fight Rumina if she couldn’t even identify the nature of her enchantment? And where the hell was Cairpra? Her mentor seemed to have answers for everything, and she desperately needed them now. But from what she could tell, the same darkness that blanketed the city, had smothered her, along with everyone else. 

Maeve paused at the foot of the palace steps, unsure of her next move. She had to find a way to speak with Cairpra, to find out what had happened. Every instinct she possessed told her that she was still alive. Rumina loved to rub failure in the face of her enemies, and letting them die quickly before her master plan had a chance to unfurl, was simply not her style.

She closed her eyes, picturing the elder sorceress, her seemingly pedestrian appearance hiding the power, the knowledge, the wisdom that she silently held. Hiding…. Could she be hiding? No, Maeve knew. Cairpra was no coward. Although drained by her spell to transport the Nomad expediently to and from the island, not to mention hopelessly outmatched by Rumina and her cursed Obelisk, she was certain that Cairpra had stood her ground. She knew Maeve would want to find her. That she would need to know, to understand what had happened. The question was, where to look?

Dermott as usual, was one step ahead of her. His sudden takeoff from her arm to fly to the outskirts of the palace, confirmed her gut instinct. “By the Gods, where are you headed woman?!” Doubar shouted after her, as she hastily followed Dermott’s lead. “That vile witch is waiting for us _inside_ the palace Maeve. She not the type to choose nature over a throne room.” 

“No, she’s not,” Maeve agreed. “But Cairpra is,” she ascertained, hurrying her pace towards the palace gardens. To the place they had given Sinbad over to Rumina, in perfect view of the setting sun. 

“That is both a wise decision, and an astute observation,” endorsed Firouz, breathing heavily as he caught up to Maeve, who was standing beside her least favourite garden bench. “She will likely be able to provide us with some insight into the terrible circumstances we find ourselves privy too.”

“That I will,” answered a voice that lightened Maeve’s heart. But when she turned around to face her mentor, all she could see was a pale shade that threatened to disappear with the next gust of wind. “But not for long.”

“Cairpra!” Maeve shouted, shock and horror etched upon her face. “What has she done to you?”

“What she has done to everyone else,” she replied solemnly. “Banished us to the realm of shadows, until we accept her rule. Her ascension to power. Everyone who resists her will remain. Everyone who swears fealty will be allowed to return.”

“I don’t understand…” said Maeve, perturbed. The realm of shadows?! What is this blackness hanging over our every step?”

“It is not mere blackness, my child. It is shadows. Our shadows to be exact.” Cairpra sighed heavily, weary with the effort of keeping her form present. “Rumina mobilized them against us, a rather effective albeit hideous strategy. How can anyone stand against something that we cannot touch, cannot fight, but that is nonetheless bound to us irrevocably? Now they inhabit the corporeal realm, whereas her dissenters are doomed to remain as waifs for all eternity, unable to die, but unable to truly live.”

“I beg your pardon Cairpra,” interjected Firouz, “but what you’re implying defies the laws of science, and of logic. Shadows, by their very definition, cannot exist in and of themselves, being that they are simply a result of light coming into contact with a surface, such as our bodies…”

“Firouz, my spirited scholar,” retorted Cairpra, “The laws of science and the laws of magic are not always in alignment, unfortunately for us in this case.”

Maeve’s anger was a living thing, threatening to yank back every condemned soul and send each and every shadow back to where they came from. But she didn’t know how. Once again that vicious woman had found a way to thwart her, to make her own significant power seem obsolete. She may have thrown the gauntlet down, but Maeve was more than happy to counter. No shadow could stand against her light, her wildfire. Not even her own. 

“How can I release you Cairpra? Release them all…”

“By putting an end to the power that is holding us here.”

“In other words, by putting an end to that bitch once and for all,” spat Doubar. Maeve couldn’t help but smile. For once in the last twenty four hours, they were on the same page.

Cairpra offered a smile as well, but it was filled with a sorrow, a guilt that needed to be released.

“Maeve, there is something you need to hear while I still have strength to remain. I wish I did not have to say it, but such sentiments make facts no less true.”

Maeve met her eyes carefully, her angry spirit quelled by the somber look on her mentor’s face, not to mention her flickering form. “There is no easy way to say this, so I will just say it plainly. I read the black magic text you gave me, the page Sinbad took from Rumina’s potion room. He was astute to take it. It contained the instructions for how to cast the so called ‘Beholden’ curse he is under, as well as details regarding its workings.”

She paused and Maeve felt her ears ring in anticipation. In fear. “The curse is not meant to be lifted, my child. There is no counter curse. No instructions for its removal. The victim exists only in relation to one who cursed them, and if the caster dies, then so to do they, for there is no one left to sustain their life.” 

Her words struck Maeve as if the curse had hit her own chest. She struggled to breathe deeply in and out, beyond tears, beyond speech. It must be a misunderstanding, a mistake. Cairpra didn’t make mistakes, but still, she had to be wrong. There were some things even she couldn’t know, right? Right?! That Sinbad could be lost to them after all they had gone through was an impossibility, more so than mythological treasure, more so than shadows awakening to take the place of the living. 

Cairpra sighed heavily, feeling guilt of a different kind creep over her. “As with most things however, there are unknowns. Things that can’t be known unless they are first tried. I believe in science, they are called hypotheses,” she said pointedly, glancing towards Firouz with kindness. “There may still be a way around Sinbad’s curse, but it will be untested territory. Dangerous territory. Purely theoretical, the consequences unclear. This is not just about breaking his curse after all. Something fundamental has been taken from him, and it may not be possible to put it back quite the way it was before.” 

She paused straining with the effort of speaking, her shade barely visible. “You have untold power now. I am proud beyond words, excited for you despite your incredible burdens. I trust you will know what to do when the time comes. Use your head, but also this,” and as she rested her fingers overtop of Maeve’s heart, she dissipated like glistening stars on a moonless night.


	18. Chapter 18

Doubar was more incensed than a tiger denied food, Firouz more frazzled that a mother of ten. This was not a good combination for Maeve. Thank the Goddess for Rongar, who stoically attempted to instill calm and reason back to his disturbed comrades, armed crossed in disapproval. 

“That depraved harpy of a woman!” shouted Doubar, loud enough that Maeve was sure Rumina could here him, from whatever hell hole she was currently waiting in. Maeve was also sure that she was listening, but she hardly cared anymore. Both women knew it was winner takes all the next time they met, which was chillingly soon.

“It’s not enough that she had to curse my brother, force him to stay with her, obsessed as she is, but now you’re telling me that you don’t even know how to break this hold she has over him! That you’re going to subject Sinbad to some sort of magical ‘experiment’ that will hopefully result in his freedom!”

“Experiment, yes, that is for all intents and purposes what our plan of action will have to be,” rambled Firouz, in tandem with his distressed temperament. “Lots of things can go wrong during experiments which I’m sure you well know, but the consequences can be often illuminating, though hopefully not too illuminating in this case…”

“Shut up both of you, I’m trying to think!” shouted Maeve, frustrated with their useless cacophony. She did indeed need to think, and fast. The sun, though barely visible through the shadows, was dangerously close to setting, and she needed to face Rumina before it had fallen below the tree line. Before the curse took a hold of Sinbad permanently. Three days ago she had no choice but to give him over to her worst enemy. This time, there was no chance she would let him stay.

The question remained however, how? Perhaps if she were to incapacitate Rumina rather than kill her outright. Keep her in a vegetative state for the rest of her days, so that Sinbad could technically still remain breathing. But would he be the same? Or would he spend the rest of his days pining for the woman who had stolen his life? Or worse, would he be changed so ‘fundamentally’ that he’d become her personal vessel of darkness, the very thing he had devoted his life to fighting against?

Worse still, if that was even possible, she needed to free Dermott from his curse. She’d sworn it to her brother from the moment he was changed. Had become an apprentice to Dim Dim, training for the day when she would finally kill Rumina and release him. How could she break her promise now? She loved both men dearly, in different but no less significant ways. She was sure that her heart would never recover from the loss of either of them. Their suffering would haunt her forever, reminding her of her failure for the rest of her days. 

Perhaps it would be possible to free Dermott somehow without killing Rumina? She would have unlimited time to experiment if she decided to keep that witch alive and comatose. But once she had defeated her and no longer possessed the powers afforded her by the Cintamani stone, would she be strong enough? She really didn’t know, Maeve cursed to herself. 

It seemed for the time being however, that this was her best option, though the thought of that woman’s continued presence in the world made her skin crawl. Sinbad would definitely die without Rumina, but Maeve would possibly be able to free Dermott even if she remained alive. So many unknowns, so many damnable hypothesis… no wonder Firouz seemed lost in a world of his own so often.

Speaking of Firouz, she was grateful that the men had apparently stopped their bickering so she could weigh the options. She paused. Their silence was rather uncharacteristic though, she realized suddenly, as prickles ran up her spine. Doubar didn’t give a flying dirk when she yelled at him, and Firouz was way too anxious to stay this silent. Her stomach dropped. She didn’t even need to turn around to know what had happened, but she did anyways. Didn’t need to scream into the darkness with rage, but she did anyways. And she didn’t need to hear Rumina’s wicked laugh to know that she reveled in Maeve’s pain, but that demoness let it ripple through the air anyways.

“My, my, I always knew you were a foolish peasant, but not quite how foolish. Did you really think that I would just let the four of you stroll into my new home without a proper greeting?” Rumina’s giggles continued to be the most grating sound Maeve had ever heard. “You see, I’m in such a fabulous mood that I’m feeling exceptionally welcoming at the moment, even towards my enemies. I suppose that ascending the throne of Basra, and indulging in my dream wedding all in one night, has made me rather forgiving.” Maeve fought the urge to vomit, praying that she hadn’t forced Sinbad to marry her yet. She doubted that man ever wanted to be married in the first place, never mind to such a detestable bride. 

“I have quite the celebration in store for you, as my honoured guest,” Rumina’s disembodied voice continued to taunt. “You had best hurry though. I just managed to get the groomsmen all together and lined up in the throne room for the ceremony. Once you get there, the real fun can begin. I debating asking you if you wanted to hold my veil as I walk down the aisle, but decided that I don’t want your filthy peasant hands getting all over it.”

“Enough of your games Rumina,” retorted Maeve, much calmer than she felt. That woman didn’t deserve the satisfaction of her ire. “You can play pretend with your wedding plans and your newfound throne, but your hold over them has about as much substance as you, which is to say, precious little.”

Rumina paused for a moment before chuckling darkly. “Oh, I think you’ll find that my hold is quite secure. In fact, there is someone I’d very much like for you to become reacquainted with. The two of you have changed quite a bit in such a short period of time after all. You became more of an interesting obstacle for me with your adorable new powers, and he, well,” she chuckled again. “I’ll let you see what he is for yourself. He’s waiting for you now, along with your beloved crew.”

Maeve took a razor-sharp breath, and abruptly headed towards the palace, singeing shadows with her every step, silent but deadly. She would not give that woman the satisfaction of a response, would not let her see how much her words hurt and rattled her. Disgusted was too gentle of a word to describe her thoughts at the moment. She shuddered at image of Rumina’s claims about Sinbad, and forced her feelings on the matter to the outskirts of her mind. They were too much of a painful mess to sort out, and right now, she owed it to everyone to be strong, not some pitiful little girl crying over a ruined love story. 

As she reached the throne room however, prickles ran up her spine unbidden, like a cat with its hackles raised. No matter how much power she had at her disposal, fear was a hard feeling to stifle. This was her moment. No more waiting, no more plotting, no more longing to face her greatest enemy. She was certain that this time there would be a clear winner. It was electrifying and terrifying all at once. So much to gain, and so much to lose. Maeve knew that she walked toward her destiny, whatever it may be.

“Be safe brother,” she implored to Dermott, gentle yet firm, as she released him from her arm. There was enough collateral assembled in the room before her as it was. She didn’t want him anywhere near the woman who had already put him through so much. Although reluctant at first to obey, with a flourish of wings Dermott took off into the gathering dusk. He knew that his sister could not stand to have more burdens laid upon her heart at the moment. And he knew she was stronger and more ready than she could ever be to make them right. 

If all went well, their greatest enemy would be placed under an eternal slumber, unable to control Sinbad, but still allowing him to live. Maeve prayed it would be enough… that his mind wasn’t too far gone to heal. Cairpra’s words resonated in her mind… ‘something fundamental was taken from him.’ She would make it her life’s purpose to help him get it back, curse be damned. She would restore him to what he was, and allow him to live the life he so deserved to.

Maeve entered the dimly lit throne room, the light and vigour Omar normally radiated silenced, like everything else. The only illumination in the expansive space glimmered from a smattering of torches, lined against the walls as if in a dungeon. For all intents and purposes, it was a dungeon, for the crew of the Nomad that was. Doubar, Rongar and Firouz were tightly bound, and forced to their knees as though in supplication to some unseen God. Black tendrils of shadow wrapped around their limbs, holding them firmly in place. Maeve ran to them out of instinct, her power lighting up the dark like a living torch, in addition to an actual fireball she conjured to place on the floor next to them. 

“Careful lass,” warned Doubar, ever the critic. “I’m already being choked to near death by my shadow. I don’t need to become a human lantern to make this night any worse.” Maeve was not in the mood to offer him a witty retort. This setup had trap written all over it, the bait laid out all too tidily. She was sure she’d hear the world’s most grating laugh in a matter of seconds.

But this night seemed to have an endless supply of the unexpected in store for her. Truthfully, she should have been prepared for what appeared behind her. Yet, she knew that no amount of preparing could ever be enough to make it any less distressing. She turned to see Sinbad standing before her, bathed in an unnaturally bright light, lending him an otherworldly appearance. This impression was likely intensified by the white tunic he wore, with a hint of silvery threads running through the fine material, in gentle contrast to the stark white of his long sleeve undershirt. Even his trousers were made of the shining cloth, complete with silver boots, belt and scabbard. All this, paired with his handsome face, made him look like he was a heavenly being come down to earth, destined for royalty. 

But the image was far from pleasant. He may have looked ethereal, but he was also surreal, as if part of him had been washed away. His eyes met hers, bright with a spirit that was not quite his own, and it shook her to her core.

“Hello Maeve,” he said to her warmly, as if there was nothing unusual about the circumstances surrounding them. He walked towards her, as she stood frozen in shock, unable to find the words to return his greeting. “Rumina said you would come. It’s good to see you… to see all of you,” he smiled, as he looked towards his bound and kneeling crew. 

“Sinbad, what the devil is the matter with you!” yelled Doubar, irate with distress, and not able to fully process what he was seeing. “Get over here and help Maeve figure out a way to get us loose from our damn shadows. As much as I’m dubious about your fireballs lass, maybe you could try to smoke them out a little bit so they run off.” 

“I’m not sure that would be effective Doubar,” chimed in Firouz, ever the scientist, even in the most dire of situations. “Shadows are not responsive to fire, or any other substance, point of fact. They are technically insubstantial, which makes it all the more strange that they’re able to secure us in place at all. Yet another reason why I prefer the laws of science to the laws of magic.”

“I’d have to agree with Firouz, brother,” Sinbad nodded, unfazed. “Our Empress is quite gifted with her spells. I doubt even your fire would do much about them Maeve.” He looked at her nonchalantly, as if having just told her about the day’s expected weather.

She struggled to find her voice, the words leaving her throat like sludge. “Sinbad, your brother, your friends, your family… can’t you see that they’re suffering? That they need our help?” 

He smiled and shook his head with playful disapproval, as he faced his brother. “Oh Doubar, always getting yourself into trouble. Acting before you think about the consequences. I mean, what did you really expect to happen when you stood in way of the most powerful woman in the world, the rightful ruler of the Near East?” 

Doubar scoffed. “Rightful ruler my ass. What the hell are you going on about? You sound as ridiculous as you look. Like a fancy little prince riding into battle for the first time, afraid of getting his clothes dirty.”

Sinbad frowned at this, but didn’t appear overly upset. “What, you don’t like my new clothes Doubar? I think they’re rather nice. Rumina picked them for me. She wanted me all in white, since we’re to be married at sunset today.” 

Maeve fought the urge to be violently ill. This was not her Sinbad. He would never stand to be dressed up like a pretty courtier, and told how to speak, how to act, how to think. His freedom meant everything to him… it defined him as surely as the open sea. And he would die before he willingly agreed to marry a woman who would quite literally control him until the end of his days. He didn’t love her… couldn’t love her… right? She knew it was the curse, was told by Cairpra and Rumina herself that this was inevitable. But hearing it and seeing it were too different things. This was so deeply wrong, so indescribably painful, that she was stunned once again into silence.

“I see you all look confused, and I suppose I can’t really blame you. Things have changed quite a bit since we’ve been separated. I hear you went on a rather exciting treasure hunt. I’d love to hear about it sometime,” Sinbad continued, oblivious to the looks of horror he was receiving. He turned once again towards Maeve, closing the distance between them. He took her hands in his as he fixed his gaze upon her.

“I know this must be hard for you to accept, but I have a new life now, a real purpose. No more sailing across the ocean aimlessly, searching for a lost mentor who is ultimately unimportant.” 

Maeve swallowed back bile, perturbed by his callous mention of Dim Dim. Perturbed by him.

He paused to consider his next words. “You don’t have to die you know. I’m sure I can convince our Empress to let you live, so long as you bend the knee. She’s giving me a new ship, one befitting of her prince consort. I get to choose my own crew. We could keep sailing together, all of us,” he smiled, looking from her to his bound crew, belying no sense that anything was amiss. “It will be just like it always was. Still adventuring, discovering new lands, helping people. We’ll just be doing it in her name, encouraging peace and fealty wherever the wind takes us.”

Maeve wanted to shake him into oblivion, hard, until the darkness that had overcome his mind had no choice but to release him. The worst thing about this was his ever-beautiful face… so peaceful, so vibrant, so assured that what he was saying was right. He did not look to be under any sort of trance. His eyes were the same startling ocean blue, simultaneously melting and breaking her heart. This was no enchantment he was under. She now understood what Cairpra meant about him being changed fundamentally. Rumina had melted him down with hellfire itself, and reshaped him, as if he were malleable clay. It was the most twisted, despicable thing she had ever seen, and it horrified her beyond description.

Maeve swallowed deeply, finally finding her voice. She fought back the tears that threatened to fall, as she willed him to listen, to understand. “Please Sinbad, please… you must know that this isn’t you. You stand for so much more than this. You are so much more. Remember your family, remember us,” she implored him, as she gripped his hands in turn. “Fight her Sinbad. You’re strong. You’re the master of the seven seas, remember?” she smiled sadly. “You don’t serve anyone, especially not someone as loathsome as Rumina, nor would you expect it of anyone else.”

Sinbad’s eyes turned from ocean blue to pure ice, as he unsheathed his sword and held it to her neck. “How dare you speak of our Empress that way?” he spat. “Bend the knee now, before you no longer have the chance. She won’t stand for such insolence the way I do.”

Maeve withheld her urge to crumble his sword to bits, knock him unconscious and drag him back to the ship. Instead she returned his look of ice with one of fire. “Are you going to kill me then Sinbad?” she asked plainly, pushing his sword away and grasping his face with her hands. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath. She wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt, but it would be wrong in so many ways. This was not the Sinbad she had fallen in love with. Her Sinbad was buried deep, lost in Rumina’s shadows. She couldn’t give up on him. She wouldn’t. Her heart told her that he was still possible to find... after all, it wasn’t sunset yet. She just needed to find a way to make him listen, to feel how wrong this all was. She pressed her forehead to his, willing her words to sink into his mind. His heart.

Sinbad faltered at this, a look of confusion etched upon his face. He considered her for few moments, before he stepped back and shook his head, wincing as though it caused him pain. A voice that curdled Maeve’s overheated blood filled the air with wicked potency.

“Don’t listen to her my love,” Rumina cooed, as she materialized before him, clasping his hands and drawing him towards her. “She trying to confuse you with her barbarian ideals. She doesn’t belong here in our Empire, and never will.” She began to stroke his hair, running her hands down his face to hold him as Maeve had done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sinbad nodded to her, lost in the power of her touch, her soft hands cradling his very being. It felt so good, so right, being close to her. Her words were his own thoughts, after all. Maeve was an outsider in truth, a vagabond from the North. She didn’t understand their southern ideals, the needs of their people. She would always stand in the way of what they really needed. Order. Discipline. Strong, unified leadership. An Empire to make all others quake. How grateful he was that Rumina was able to remind him, to save him from the pain of confusion. He smiled an adoring smile at his soon to be bride. He would never be lost so long as he followed her. She was right…she was always right. She knew his heart better than anyone… she lived in his very soul.

His heart soared as he saw the look of pleasure on her enchanting face. Rumina knew what he had just realized, and was smiling at his sweet surrender. She drew him in for an intimate kiss that he was only too happy to return, unfazed by the presence of his crew, or even Maeve. After all, they needed to see how complete he felt with her, to understand his new life. Where his heart rightfully belonged. They could join them or die. He rather hoped they would come around though. He enjoyed their company, and Rumina said that as long as they behaved, he could still see them. Especially Doubar. He was his brother after all, and raised him from when he was a toddler. It would be a shame if he couldn’t at least be there to witness him get married, and become a father to a line of rulers that would never be broken. He would do whatever his Empress wished though. She knew what was best for him, for them, and she would never lead him wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maeve turned away out of disgust, her head spinning with a mixture of heartache and rage. It was a dangerous combination, especially for a sorceress who wielded the power that she now had. “RUMINA!” she shouted, thoroughly done with her show and tell. Her very being blazed fire, her hands a raging inferno, her feet standing upon glowing embers as she whipped back around. “Time for you and I to end these games, bitch. You said yourself that you were done playing when you took the Obelisk and cursed Sinbad, but all I see is a little girl fooling around with her favourite toy.” 

Rumina’s eyes turned black as her soul, as she surveyed her opponent. “The flames are a nice touch. They almost make you look like a challenge,” she taunted, running her gaze cursorily over the Nomad crew. “Aww, why the upset faces everyone? You chose this after all, don’t you remember? You could have let him die. But instead, you gave him to me.”

Doubar was equal parts shocked and incensed. “We wanted him to live, but didn’t know how steep the cost would be, you spawn of the devil!”

Rumina wrinkled her nose. “Ewww, I think not. I’m far too pleasing on the eyes for that to be the case...”

“No amount of beauty can mask the stench of your rotten soul Rumina,” spat Maeve, eager to put an end to their banter.

The dark sorceress glowered, as she tightened her grip on Sinbad’s arm. “Oh yeah? Tell that to your would-be lover then, peasant. He seems quite enamoured with my scent. Among other things,” she affirmed as she drew him closer to her, only too pleased to provide her rival with another demonstration. 

“Yes, fine, we can all see your curse was plenty effective Rumina,” stated Maeve, doing her best to stay cold and collected, but unable to entirely reign in the sparks of powerful anger flaring from her being. “But a beautiful lie is still a lie, and that fact will plague you till the day you finally rot like the vermin you are.”  
  
Rumina’s very being darkened, as she shoved her lover aside, an ebony mist swirling around her. “Enough words. I tire of arguing with those who are beneath me. I’m content for the rest of you to remain as our wedding guests, but you, filthy barbarian that you are, will have no such luxury. I’m afraid we have to take out the trash, or it will spoil the celebration.”

With what happened next, the crew was grateful to be held out of the line of fire, quite literally. Sharp tendrils of black magic shot from Rumina’s hands like vipers, to melt into pools beneath Maeve’s heat. Flames flew across the void between them, striking Rumina’s barriers with equal fervour, and ineffectiveness. For all intents and purposes, it was a brilliant firework show, where nothing could be achieved. Trench warfare at it’s finest.

Both women realized this all too quickly, but it did nothing to calm their fury. Blood was in the water, and the sharks had come out to feast. Maeve was filled with a determination, a righteousness, a vigour that she had never known. This was her moment. She knew their power was equally matched, each woman’s will iron, fighting for what mattered to them the most. Love, and conversely, love of power. But Cairpra had told her that her cause was greater. Her strength rooted in something much more substantial. She used this assuredness to push her barrier of flames further towards her enemy, willing them melt her shadows into blackened sludge, along with their mistress.

Rumina was never one to shirk from a challenge. She was so close to achieving her dream, what her and her father had been working towards since before she was born. She would avenge him, she would be feared, and she would be loved. Emblazoning their legacy upon the Near East and beyond, fulfilled until her dying day. Perhaps she would even find a way to extend her life, achieve immortality. That way she could watch her lineage grow, spread across the realm, and venture into new territory to claim. She smiled at the thought. If her children were anything like Sinbad, an adventurous spirit would be all but assured. They would be the perfect combination of darkness and light, making the people of the world fall willingly at their feet. Yin and Yang at its truest potential. She used this thought to propel her shadows forward, willing them to choke out the wall of flames that encroached upon her.

The throne room throbbed with heat, the power melting between them held equally at bay. At this rate, both women would either explode from the energy they were expending, or crumple into lifeless heaps. They were only human after all, wielding powers to rival that of any God. The more immediate concern however, was the Nomad’s crew. Sinbad. He had moved to the other end of the room, to give the women a wide berth, but Maeve could see the toll this battle was taking on him. On them all. Their skin was glazed in sweat as they attempted to shield their eyes, scorching wind whipping across their forms.

Rumina saw Maeve’s gaze fall upon them, the concern etched upon her face. She smiled. Power came in many forms she knew, as did weakness. And the fiery sorceress had just reminded her of hers. Raising one hand towards the three men, she made a fist strong enough to draw blood, matching her scarlet fingernails. The crew yelled out violently before grasping at their throats, struggling against the choking grip of their own shadows. Maeve balked, fear for them drawing away her attention. Rumina took advantage of her distraction to press dangerously forward, threatening to suffocate her rival. This really couldn’t go any better for her, she laughed. Love was a weakness she rarely indulged in, and she was sure to safeguard it much more effectively than this foolish peasant did.

Maeve faced Rumina again, meeting her gaze with eyes that kindled fire. “Alright you contemptible shrew, you win,” she spat, the words like poison on her tongue. 

Part of Maeve wanted to have Rumina lower her guard, only to shoot a quick bolt of flames into her heart. But she didn’t want to risk the men, her family’s lives in case she was unsuccessful. Furthermore, she didn’t want to kill Rumina, only disable her, as she had decided before. Which meant that for now, she was at the mercy of her greatest enemy, and the wicked woman had none. 

Rumina began to laugh malevolently, her eyes glittering with triumph, as she maintained her grip. “It’s too bad your bird isn’t here too, peasant. I would love for you watch while I tear him apart, feather by feather. But don’t worry, after you’re dead I’ll be sure to find him in time for the wedding feast. The table of honour needs something special to dine on, after all.”

Maeve lunged forward with rage, intending to strangle the sadistic woman where she stood. But just as her hands closed around her bejewelled neck, she heard the crew’s renewed sounds of agony. By the Goddess, why hadn’t she just made them stay behind on the Nomad?! Surely being bound there would be better than them being bound here and used against her. 

But she knew deep down that Rumina would have found a way to bring them here anyways. She was always going to use them against her. Use love against her. Maeve’s death would be a warning to them to behave or suffer the same fate, just like she had warned the people of Basra. Rumina’s power lay in fear, worse than any dictator before her.

“Get your filthy peasant hands off of me wench! NOW!” Rumina spat, as shadows swirled around them. Maeve took a step back with her hands raised in an inimical gesture of surrender, her eyes flashing with ire. 

“You will never truly win Rumina. I know you think that you have, but your dreams are built upon fear and lies. You’re bound to discover how weak they are eventually. With or without me in the picture.”

“You will most assuredly not be in the picture you loathsome ant. I wish you could live to see how strong, how undeniable my power will truly be, but I’m afraid that I have something much more… nightmarish in mind for you.”

Rumina’s mouth turned up into a malicious smile, as Maeve felt a presence behind her. She spun around, only to see Sinbad standing before her with an unreadable expression on his face, his hands moving to press around her throat. She couldn’t breathe, and not just because he was beginning to strangle her. But because, Sinbad, her Sinbad was so far gone that he was going to kill her in front of his crew, a final act of submission before he bound himself to Rumina eternally. The sun was setting, perhaps had already set, and he was lost. She had failed him. She had failed Dermott, failed Dim Dim, failed Cairpra. She had failed everyone, including herself. And she would die knowing it. 

Rumina chuckled as she moved behind her soon to be husband, her long nails sliding over his shoulders sensually. One hand moved to wrap around his neck while the other dug into his chest hard enough to draw blood, and if he hadn’t been wearing such finery, she would have. She kissed him beneath his ear and spoke reverently to him, loud enough for Maeve to hear. “It seems your redheaded whore enjoys what you’re giving to her. Why don’t you try giving her even more? It’s time to show this pathetic peasant who you really belong to. What you truly think of her. She’s nothing to you, and will soon be nothing at all. Do it my love. Do it for me. For us. For our future.” 

Maeve felt the weight of defeat surround her, worse than any of Rumina’s shadows. She watched the disgusting spectacle despondently, her heart ground to fine dust. Cairpra was wrong. The woman of flames was wrong. Love and loyalty hadn’t made her strong. They had made her vulnerable. Made her weak. She felt a defiant tear sting her cheek despite herself, as she stared boldly into Sinbad’s mesmerizing eyes, willing him with every fiber of her being to wake from the evil spell that had clamed his soul. Strangely, they seemed to shine like a crystal, reflecting all the colours of a rainbow. All the colours that he had woken in her heart.

“I’m so sorry Sinbad,” she managed to rasp out. So sorry I couldn’t save you.” She reached out her hand to touch his cheek, a look of forgiveness in her eyes. “I love you….” And as he saw her eyes begin to glaze over in death, in one fluid motion, he grasped his dagger and turned to plunge it deep into Rumina’s heart.

Sinbad crumpled, as Rumina fell to the floor. She was dead before she hit the ground, her face a mask of shock and defeat, the last look she would ever wear. It took a moment for Maeve to register what had happened. She had been dying at Sinbad’s hands. The man she had finally admitted her love to. She’d seen his eyes flicker with colour and vitality, as blackness began to fall over her own. But then he let go. He let go and he stabbed Rumina, and now he was the one dying… Maeve fell to her knees and held him as he struggled to breathe, tears flowing freely upon her cheeks.

“You weren’t supposed to kill her Sinbad. You were supposed to wake up. Supposed to help me overpower her, supposed to live!” her impassioned words echoing into the space around them. His pale face met hers, sweat glistening upon his skin with the labour of breathing. He smiled at her sadly, a strange mixture of peacefulness and regret etched onto his lips. Even while dying, he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“Please don’t leave me Sinbad. There’s so much I want to say, so much I didn’t get a chance to tell you...” she begged, willing him to live with the same vigour with which she had willed him to be free.

He touched her cheek affectionately with that oddly contented smile. “You said enough Maeve,” he whispered, his breathing slowed to the barest rise and fall. “I do too... I love you.”  
  
As his eyes fluttered closed, Maeve felt emptiness and pain beyond description. He loved her. They loved each other. He couldn’t die. Not after all they had gone through to save him. Not after he had sacrificed himself so that others might live. So that she might live. She was desperate, and desperate people did desperate things. In that moment, she didn’t have time to think of a better alternative. To carefully construct a hypothesis in a magical laboratory, with the advice of her mentor and a thousand books at her disposal. She could only follow her intuition. Follow her bleeding, overburdened heart.

So she decided to do something she was terrified of. It was so wrong that it would haunt her for the rest of her days. But she couldn’t let him die. He deserved to live. The world needed him to live. She needed him to live. So as his lungs ceased their rising and falling, she willed him to take her breath of life.


	19. Chapter 19

Happiness wasn’t meant to taste so bitter, reflected Maeve, as she watched the crew load the Nomad with provisions for their next voyage. A voyage she would not allow herself to be part of. She had yet to tell Sinbad of her choice, but she was loath to burst the bubble of joy that surrounded his every step since he opened his eyes, free at last from Rumina’s curse. But he wasn’t really free. Now he was beholden to her, and she could not stomach the guilt of such a detestable burden. Could not imagine her intrepid, indomitable captain spending his life falling over himself to please her, to be everything she wanted him to be, rather than who he was meant to be. Who he was. 

He was assuredly not perfect, she reflected sardonically, thinking of his love for both adventure and misadventure, particularly of the female variety. Not to mention his rather stubborn and bossy nature, which both incited and excited her own ire. But all this made him real. Made him a person and not a pet, a man and not a mannequin. He could never be hers. She would never let him be hers, because he deserved so much better than that. 

She wiped a stray tear off of her flushed cheeks, turning away so that no one could witness her grief. Fate was cruel to her indeed. The thought of his happy carefree smile, his eyes sparkling with vitality and life, had given her the strength she needed to bear the burdens that destiny had placed on her shoulders these past few harrowing days. And yet today, seeing that smile and his beautiful vibrant eyes burned a hole in her stomach that she was sure would never heal. Because she would never get the chance the see that smile shine brightly for her of his own volition. Would never get to see his eyes sparkle with true desire for her, or with real, tangible joy at the pleasure of holding her in his embrace. He could never be hers, without it being a lie. And she would not allow either of them to build their life upon such falsehoods. 

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually you know,” teased a voice that soothed her aching heart. At least she hadn’t failed one of the men she loved, she reflected gratefully, as she met Dermott’s very human eyes. Her brother was indeed taller than she remembered, now being a man grown, with a shock of wavy red hair that hung past his ears. His golden brown eyes regarded her shrewdly, hawk-like in their intensity, though perhaps that was only because they held an uncanny resemblance to the ones she had looked into for all these years. She resisted the urge to pull him into yet another embrace, clinging to him as though he would disappear if she didn’t hang on too tightly.

“The two of you are so ridiculous, it makes me want to ruffle my feathers with irritation. And just because I don’t have them anymore, doesn’t make my point any less valid.” Her brother’s indelible sense of humour did little to lighten the distaste that hung over her heart. 

“You know as well as I do why I’m not,” Maeve chastised, the two of them having spent most of the night conversing about anything and everything they possible could. Sinbad too had spent the night in the company of his brother and crew, Doubar having been unwilling to let him out of his sight for more than a piss break. Even now the big man shrouded his every step, the most joyful and spirited bodyguard on the Arabian Peninsula. If he was bothered by the circumstances of Sinbad’s survival, he hadn’t shown it. After all, he didn’t have to live with the burden of his soul. Only she did. 

“He loved you before all this and you know it sister. As did you. The sheer amount of times the two of you have given each other heartsick lingering looks in the past few minutes should be enough proof for even a stubborn firebrand like you. But in case you’re not sure, why don’t you try reading his mind?” he prodded.

“Don’t even start Dermott,” she flared with irritation. Maeve could read Sinbad’s mind, she knew. She had felt his thoughts as soon as he had awoken the night before, and the cacophony they created in her head was enough to drive her mad. The idea that she could manipulate them made her even more so. She shuddered at the power Rumina must have had over him. Not even the Gods had such control over the lives of men. 

As she wallowed in this morose train of thought, she noticed Sinbad’s eyes stray from his comrades’ to meet her own. She didn’t need to read his thoughts to know he was hurt by the distance she kept. Other than a grateful hug upon his awakening that was quickly cut short by her pained and flustered manner, not to mention the excited flurry erupting all around them, they had exchanged little but a few pleasantries. Maeve could hear his silent question to her… why? She quickly turned around, unbidden tears threatening to fall once more. That vile witch did end up taking him away from her after all, she admonished. Rumina may be dead, but her legacy lived on in the most viciously twisted of ways. 

“I don’t need to be able to read his mind to know you’re breaking his heart, you incorrigible vixen,” Dermott chastised. “I told you my opinion on this already, and I’d wager it’s similar to the opinion of everyone else around us. He saved your life, you saved his life. You love him, he loves you. It’s been that way for quite some time before all this mess with the Obelisk, so just enjoy that you get to be a little bit closer than most couples do…”

Dermott was cut off by Maeve’s sharp retort. “Stop it brother, or I’ll bid you farewell along with the Nomad!” she threatened emptily. “We wouldn’t just be a bit closer than most couples and you know it. You have no idea what it’s like, what it feels like to be able to read someone’s mind. To be able to make someone do something. To know that they live only as an extension of yourself…”

“We most assuredly do not know what that’s like my dear, but are you sure that you do?”

Cairpra stood but a few feet away, wearing her characteristically firm expression. But this time, there was a lightness to it that belied the contentment she felt at their liberation from Rumina’s reign of terror. Well, the liberation of almost everyone, Maeve cursed to herself.

“Yes, Cairpra, I do know,” answered Maeve, not in the mood to be reprimanded by yet another person. Not even the mentor she trusted and respected so immeasurably. 

The elder sorceress smiled. “I know you think you know everything now Maeve. Having had the power of the Cintamani stone has left you feeling a bit more ‘all seeing and knowing’ than before,” she chuckled, along with Dermott. “But I mean what I said despite this. You may be able to hear Sinbad’s thoughts, and likely can communicate with him without words as well, but you do not have proof that you can control him, do you? Or that he exists only as an extension of yourself?”

“I don’t need proof Cairpra, and I’m certainly not interested in testing out that theory,” she shuddered. “You understand the nature of magic, better than I do. You know that I bound him to me when I gave him my breath, just like Rumina did. I couldn’t think of a better option, so I did what my heart told me to do. I let him live. And while I don’t regret it, I’ll spend the rest of my life suffering for it.”

“You have suffered quite enough already my child, don’t you think?” Cairpra moved to stand beside Maeve as they watched over the Nomad together. “I know what you believe and I understand the dilemma such thoughts must cause you. But there are some things about the nature of magic that cannot be known.” She paused for moment, catching Maeve’s gaze with her own. “I recall telling you something quite similar in the palace gardens just last night.”

Maeve sighed deeply, willing with every fiber of her being to keep herself together. Cairpra was right. She had suffered much, but life seemed to think she needed to suffer more. Her happiness seemed to have a steep price tag indeed.

“I need you to teach me how to block out his thoughts. It’s exhausting, not to mention despicable, and I don’t know for sure that once we’re separated by a larger distance that they will stop. Speaking of which, I need you to watch over him once they depart, to make sure he isn’t suffering from being apart from me. He’s an adventurer, going wherever the wind takes him, and…”

“Maeve my fiery young sorceress, listen to me,” admonished Cairpra. “He will indeed be suffering from being apart from you, but not in the way you think. He loves you. Any man in love, bonded by magic or not, will suffer when they are kept apart from the one who holds their heart.”

Maeve could no longer keep her tears at bay. She felt like a young girl, crying about how life wasn’t fair. But in this case, it truly wasn’t. She knew that the pain he would feel from her absence would run deeper than simple heartsickness. And she cursed it. Maeve never wanted to have power over anyone, especially not over him. He was her Captain, her leader, and the man she loved. They had to be equals, or they would be nothing. 

Cairpra sighed deeply, sensing her disbelief. “I also remember telling you, on more than one occasion, how the power of love is greater than any other. You should know this well after all. You saved an entire Continent by wielding it.”

It was Maeve’s turn to sigh, but she said nothing. Truthfully, there was nothing to be said that would make any difference. Love had made her strong. Had given her purpose, like Cairpra had told her. But now, it would burden her for the rest of her life.

“What you and Sinbad share together is unprecedented my child,” she continued. “Your bond doesn’t hold the same character as a curse. Its essence is entirely different. I have spent my life studying magic Maeve, and I know a curse when I see one.”

“How can it not be a curse Cairpra,” she asserted, tired of everyone trying to soften the truth. “I did the same thing that Rumina did to him. I saw her do it on that detestable sunset in Omar’s gardens, and I did the same damn thing. I willed him to take my breath so he wouldn’t die, and unwillingly cursed him to live beholden to me until the end of his days…”

“You were not the one who cursed him Maeve,” the elder sorceress intoned sharply. “You never stole his life, never forced your essence upon him, never compelled him to be yours. You offered him the chance to live, and he accepted it. Your bond was born of love, and thus love, not power, is what sustains it.”

Cairpra softened, placing her hand upon her arm. “No one fully understands what happened last night when you saved his life my child, not even the two of you. But heed a wise old woman’s words, and give yourself a chance to discover it. Otherwise, you will spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

Maeve wiped away her tears and smiled at Cairpra, still dubious, but ready at least to stop avoiding Sinbad. She needed to speak with him, to provide some closure for them if nothing else. Kindling the hope in her heart that he somehow wasn’t cursed filled her with an unbearable mixture of joy and pain, so she pushed it out of her mind with as much strength as she could muster. It was time to stop delaying the inevitable, and to give them each the clarity they deserved. Time to enjoy being near him for one last time, before she threw him the keys to his jail and let him live the life he was meant to. 

Aboard the Nomad, the sun glistened upon the waves like tears from the Gods themselves. Maeve would miss enjoying such simple pleasures. Would miss him. It didn’t take the crew long to start their snickering at her approach, making no attempt at subtlety as they moved to give her and her captain privacy. Before leaving with the rest however, Doubar grasped her arm and held her gaze with a gratefulness that belied words. She smiled gently and nodded back, trying not to let her sadness stifle the tender moment. She loved the big man, and was glad that she could grant happiness at least to him, and allow him to care for the man she loved in her stead.

Sinbad offered her his characteristic smirk, eyes dancing with amusement as the wind tousled his hair. She would miss that too. Miss it all. She leaned against the railing, focusing her eyes upon the sea, to help her steady her heart. It was too hard to look at him. She needed to be strong. To not let her emotions get the better of her. 

“I was wondering when you would finally come,” he broke the silence, sensing her discomfort. 

“I’m sorry,” she replied to him dispassionately, words failing her as she struggled to keep her composure.

“I don’t need to be able to read your mind to know you’ve been avoiding me Maeve,” he continued, amused despite her disquieted manner. “But in case you were wondering, no, I don’t accept your resignation from your position aboard the Nomad, no, you didn’t curse me and you’re not my jailor, and no, you won’t have to live with the burden of my soul for the rest of your days.” He paused. “Unless you want to, that is. You can have whatever you want from me, Maeve. I’ll give it to you. I’ll share my life with you, the way you shared yours with me… well, perhaps not in exactly the same way, but…”

“You can hear my thoughts,” she ascertained, stunned by his words.

“Well, yes. I was trying to tell you before, but you kept shutting me out. You’re awfully stubborn you know. Not wanting to listen to your brother, Cairpra, and least of all me,” he teased. 

“How..” she started, but he didn’t let her finish. His lips were upon hers in an instant, and she never wanted them to leave. She opened herself up to him in a wave of relief and desire, unable to hold back her emotions any longer, never mind process her thoughts. His tongue caressed her own with the promise of deeper pleasures to come, his hand winding through her windswept locks to pull her closer to him. She melted into his arms, forgetting the world around her, surrendering to his touch. Curses weren’t meant to taste so sweet. 

She eventually broke their kiss, suddenly mindful of their lack of privacy, and wanting to know more. Truthfully, she wanted to know everything about him, and to spend the rest of her days learning about all of his special skills, but for now, they needed to talk with words, and not their bodies.

“Are you sure Maeve?” he asked, sardonically. “My cabin isn’t so far away, and I already know you want to go there. To be honest, I’ve had a lot of bad dreams in the past few days, and I’m confident you’ll know how to rid them from my memory.” Maeve heard the increasingly inappropriate thoughts swirling in his mind, and offered him a half-hearted slap of indignation in return.

“I don’t know how this is possible,” she admitted aloud, although she probably didn’t need to. “I thought only I had the power, that the connection was only one way...”

“Well, clearly you thought wrong,” he smirked, moving his hand from her hair to caress her cheek. “It’s okay. I think it’s quite adorable when you’re wrong,” he told her wordlessly. “Mind you, I think you’re quite adorable all the time, which you probably already know…”

“Stop it sailor! Maeve chastised, unable to help the smile that lit up her face. He could read her mind. It shouldn’t be possible…it shouldn’t work this way. Black magic didn’t work this way. But Cairpra had told her this was different. That what they have is unprecedented. That there were some things that could not be known until they were tried.

“The first thing we’re going to do is have Cairpra teach us how to shut it off,” she asserted, playful, yet stern. “It’s bad enough we can speak to each other without words, but always knowing your thoughts is beyond irritating. Not to mention that it will make our relationship rather boring.” 

Sinbad laughed adoringly, grasping a lock of her hair to wind through his fingers. “I agree Maeve,” he admitted. “I like it when we argue, but I think it would get pretty exhausting if we did it all time. Besides, I want to be kept on my toes by the woman I love.”

She couldn’t help but blush at his words, resting her head upon his chest as he curled her into his arms. It was hard to imagine how far they had come in only a matter of days. From a handful of flirtatious glances and jealous, protective behaviour, to all out confessions of love. Of speaking of their future together. Mind you, their lives had been indelibly changed in those same few days, having faced the most horrific of circumstances. Having shouldered the heaviest of burdens. Such a sweet reward was only the beginning to a long road of healing ahead. 

“You know, Rumina was right in some ways,” he answered carefully, sensing the darker direction of her thoughts. “I think I was always searching for something that I was missing. Have you ever heard of Yin and Yang? Apparently, it’s when two opposite forces come together to bring out the best in each other. Perhaps that’s not so different from you and I, fire and water…”

Maeve silenced him with a possessive kiss. “I’m thoroughly tired of hearing about that loathsome witch, not to mention ideologies from the Far East,” she retorted in his mind, to which he offered a half-hearted smirk. The last person in the world that he wanted to talk about was Rumina, but truly, the thought of her weighed heavily upon his mind.

“I knew as soon as I woke that our bond was different Maeve,” he admitted, as he drew her into his embrace again. “I know that you didn’t, but then, you never knew what the curse was really like. What it felt like,” he shuddered, despite himself. “With her, I was drowning,” he admitted slowly, every word carrying with it the weight of his carefully masked fear. Of his pain. Of a reality that was impossible to ignore, but equally difficult to admit. “Lost in a sea that I could never find my way out of. That I had no choice but to surrender to. She made me what she wanted me to be, and near the end of it, I couldn’t even remember who I was.”

He moved to cup Maeve’s face gently, pressing his forehead against hers. “But when I’m with you, I know exactly who I am. I’m not beholden to you Maeve. I don’t believe that you could control me, could make me do things, to believe things, to be things...” he broke off and swallowed deeply, shaking his head as if that could rid the memories from his mind. “And even if you could, you wouldn’t even try. But you are welcome to, in case it would put your mind at ease.”

“No,” she ascertained firmly, pulling away to hold his gaze with tenderness and conviction. “I believe you Sinbad. Because if I had control over you, I would have already made you forget everything about what that vile woman did to you, so you would never have to feel that pain again. I’m willing it right now with every fiber of my being. But I know that I can’t, and that those scars will take time to heal.” She paused, as she ran her hand down his face to cup his cheek tenderly. “But now that I know you’re not being forced to exist as my personal shadow, I’ll spend the rest of the foreseeable future helping you to do so. If you want me to, that is…”

Maeve didn’t need to hear his mind tell her yes over and over. His body was saying it for him. And she loved the way it spoke. Somehow they had ended up in his cabin, half dressed, indulging in each other far too greedily to fully disrobe. Sinbad’s eyes glittered with unadulterated lust, as he slid his hands underneath her skirt, feeling the soft folds and round, perfect flesh she had to offer. When he pressed his fingers into her, eager warmth coated his digits, letting him know how very ready she was to take all he had to give her. And from the hardness she felt upon her leg, she knew it was plenty. 

Maeve had never really been with a man that she loved. Not in the way that she loved him. So when he entered her with a slow, delicious thrust, she felt more pleasure than she even knew was possible. Their rhythm was perfect, organic bliss. They each knew the other’s thoughts after all, so pleasing each other was as natural as breathing. Being joined with him this way made her feel whole and complete, as though she had finally found a part of herself that she hadn’t even known was missing. And she was certain they would spend much of the foreseeable future finding it over and over again. They climaxed in tandem, blinding pleasure swirling into a heavenly peak. And when she came down, she had the most comforting set of arms ready to catch her, holding her to him as if she were the finest treasure. She never wanted him to let her go.

Sinbad stroked her hair reverently, her partially bared chest pressing against his as they caught their breath, a gentle sheen of sweat coating their spent forms. Their thoughts coalesced into a gentle hum of satisfaction, flowing seamlessly from one to the other. He didn’t need to speak to her with words, or at all, but he did. She didn’t mind. The sound of his voice was as enchanting as the rest of him. 

“If you still feel bad about binding our souls together for the rest of our lives, I have an idea of how you could make it up to me.” Maeve already knew what he was going to say, but she let him say it anyways. “Why don’t you agree to be my wife one day, and we can call it even? You’d make a truly _breathtaking_ bride you know,” he winked, as he rose up to fix her with a playful gaze. “Just please don’t make me dress all in white…”

She silenced his teasing with yet another kiss, addicted to the taste of him, addicted to it all. When they broke apart, she flashed him a sultry smile, running her fingers through his soft brown locks. “Perhaps Sinbad, perhaps,” she answered coyly, wrapping her legs around his waist, all too eager to enjoy the benefits of their special connection once again. “But I have other plans for today.” 

A wedding could wait. This couldn’t. The world would know they belonged to each other with or without a ceremony and titles. So their bodies melted together seamlessly once more, bound by the power of something much stronger than a black magic curse. Bound by the power of love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading right to the end, and joining me on this angsty adventure! I hope you enjoyed it :) All my best!


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